


Office Parties Are for Chumps

by Zevgirl



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-04
Updated: 2012-06-15
Packaged: 2017-11-04 20:26:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/397892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zevgirl/pseuds/Zevgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So I had a dream about a modern-day Kirkwall and this is what came out of that dream. I just had to get this down because it fascinated me so much.  </p><p>So yeah, it's longer than I originally intended. </p><p>Random stuff is random....</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dateless in Kirkwall

**Office Parties Are for Chumps**

"Bela, I have a question," Marian sang from her good-sized cubicle at Kirkwall Engineering.

"How can I help you?" Isabela sang back.

Marian launched from her chair, stubbing her toe on the portable heater beneath her desk. "Shit!"

"How can you stand having that fire hazard under your desk?" Isabela asked when Marian came up behind her.

"It's so damn cold in here today. I bet Sebastian turned the heat down again."

"I think he's wearing thermals under his sweater, which is under a down vest today. Have you seen his getup yet?" Isabela asked, her condemnation plain.

"Maybe he has some field work later," Marian offered.

"Or maybe he's just pathetically devoid of fashion sense. For such a handsome guy, he certainly doesn't dress to impress." Isabela swiveled from side to side in her chair, crossing her arms casually. "Well, he did dress better when you had some influence over him."

"Anyway," Marian said, wide eyed. A pang of regret over her past involvment with Sebastian pinched her heart. "I have a ton of things to take over to the printer right now. Anything from your team that needs copying?"

"Not that I know of. You can stop by the CAD room and check, but I'm sure there's nothing."

"Then I won't stop by the CAD room. You're never wrong about these things, and the thought of getting stuck in a conversation with Merrill is not appealing to me right now."

Isabela smiled arrogantly, then eyed her friend. "So, any prospects for the First Day party yet? Fenris doesn't want to go, but he needs to get away from that store before his father croaks. Then he'll be stuck there day and night."

"Yeah, I heard the old man was moved to that facility across town," Marian said. "Once you're in there, you're as good as dead. Is Fenris holding up okay?"

"Better than okay. He hates his father, and I don't blame him. The man was nothing but a cruel bastard. If his mother hadn't died a few years ago, I think she would've killed him by now."

"You're probably right. Anyway, I don't think I'm going to the office party. You know how I hate them." Marian frowned. "Maybe I'll just curl up with a good book and watch the snow fall or something."

"What? You can't be serious," Isabela said, tossing a pencil onto her desk rather violently. She stood up and looked over Marian's shoulder, making sure no one could hear them. "You're going to let me deal with these dullards all by myself?"

"I can't go without a date, Bela. It's just too embarrassing."

"Oh, bullshit." Isabela placed her hands on her hips, her eyes flashing. "Half the CAD department is going solo. Maybe you can hook up with Anders."

"Anders?" Marian laughed. "No, he's a bit too serious for me. I mean I like him, but I'm really not interested in the same things as he is. He can talk for hours about domestic policy, religion... Ach, no thanks."

"Hey! I know who you should ask." Isabela's eyes lit up with a momentary gleam of genius. "What about the guy who owns the print shop? He has lots of money, he's gorgeous, maybe a bit conceited, but I heard Bran dumped that chick who owns the diner."

"'A bit conceited'? He's off the charts, Bela." _Is she nuts?_ _I'm so not his type_. "Besides, I don't think he even knows my name."

"Oh, he knows _everyone's_ name. He knows who I am and I rarely see him."

"That's only because you have similar… hobbies," Marian shot back with a smirk. "Last week he didn't even look me in the eye when I dropped off my project descriptions for copying."

"Hm, that could be a good sign, you know. Maybe he's shy around you because he _wants_ you." Isabela made a lewd gesture, causing Marian flick her in the arm. "I've heard he's rather talented with his hands, if you catch my meaning."

"I don't think so, Bela. I'm sure he would have no interest in a boring marketing manager."

"Just think about it. I'll be awfully put out if you blow off this party, and you know what happens when I'm mad at you."

Marian looked up, a crooked smile on her face. "Yeah, I'll be doing my own typing for a month."

"That's right. Listen to me," Isabela whispered. "All you have to do is ask him about the shop and I'm sure he'll be more than happy to bore you with the details. Then, once you're having a relaxing conversation, you can hit him up for the party."

"I'm not as… confident about these things as you, Bela." Marian felt an overwhelming sense of fearfulness just then. "And if he says no, I'll be mortified."

"Oh, don't be such a chicken. If he says no, tell him to fuck off and die."

Marian burst out laughing. "That would go over really well with Jack," she replied. "Nope, don't want to piss off the boss by losing the only copy guy in a 20-mile radius."

"Just pretend you're me then. Think 'what would Isabela do?' and run with it. You have no reason to be so down on yourself. If I didn't have Fenris, I'd seduce you in a heartbeat." With a sympathetic smile, Isabel urged her friend to take a chance. "Just promise you'll to consider the idea. It won't kill you, will it?"

Isabela was always so supportive and complimentary. Sometimes Marian thought she was just lying to make her feel better, but she knew in heart Isabela only wanted to see her happy.

 _Toughen up, Marian_. "All right, I'll consider it, but I'm not making any promises past that."

With a wide, triumphant grin, Isabela moved closer and whispered in her ear. "And don't forget to check out his package. You can tell a lot about a man by the size of his-"

"All righty then!" Marian snatched up the map tubes and file folders jam-packed with site photos. "Maker, Bela. I'm sure he doesn't stand around copying in the nude."

"He wears tight pants," she insisted. "Just a peek. For me?"

Marian shook her head, but Isabela had planted the seed and it would take every ounce of control Marian had _not_ to look. _What have I gotten myself into now?_

* * *

The wind picked up as Marian trudged across the parking lot, sheets of snow whipping and swirling around her. "Shit, I hate this weather," she muttered, pushing her back against the door to Kirkwall Printshop. Stumbling in backward, she turned and ran straight into Aveline.

"Marian! I was just thinking about you. You must be ready for this month's supply of shake mix. I have a new dietary supplement you might like also. It accelerates your weight loss _and_ has key nutrients to optimize your athletic performance."

Marian's eyes darted left and right, panicked. She was relieved to see no other customers inside the shop, and Bran was out of earshot too. "Yes, well, let me call you. I'm a bit tied up right now," she said, gesturing with her head to the maps and folders she carried in her arms. "Thanks though."

"Here's my card, just in case…." Aveline jammed the card in between two folders and smiled before rushing out the door.

Marian rolled her eyes and headed for the front desk. Placing everything down as carefully as she could, a folder fell from the pile and the contents scattered across the floor. She squatted down to gather them up, cursing under her breath, and heard footsteps approaching, a pair of fine leather shoes coming to a halt directly in front of her. It was him. _Shit. Breathe, just breathe._ She couldn't stop her eyes from rolling up. _Maker's breath, the package is definitely…there. Yes, yes, oh my…._

Frozen with lustful thoughts, she didn't realize he was bending over to help her, and as he did so, she leaned forward at the same time and their heads bumped. Marian shuddered, looking away with a startled curse, and then she straightened, facing him confidently, channeling Isabela's courage. _Maker, he_ is _really good looking_. She stared at him for several seconds, her heart pounding in her chest, the world fading away. She saw only his amber eyes. _Oh, I'm done for now_.

As she stared at Bran, a flash of something strange passed through him. It was something he couldn't put his finger on immediately, and something he dismissed just as quickly. "More work for me, hm?" He stood up and watched as she intentionally avoided looking at his crotch. _This girl is positively delightful!_ "All this copying will keep me busy until First Day."

"Oh, no, it's… it's not that much really." Standing, she straightened the papers in the folder, tapping them against the palm of her hand relentlessly. "I only need five copies of each topo and ten sets of the photo groupings and fifteen of the five by fives in the tubes," she blathered.

"I was joking, Marian." His tone was serious, but his smile genuine.

 _He does know my name_. "Oh." A raging flush crept to her cheeks. "So do you think I could get these back by the end of the day?"

"When have I ever not taken care of my biggest client?" Bran walked behind the counter and began organizing the maps and folders into neat piles. Glancing up at her, he saw her twirling a lock of hair. _It seems I make her nervous. I wonder why?_

"Okay, good then. So…." Marian paused, trying to think of a question about his printshop to facilitate a conversation, as Isabela had suggested. Peering over his shoulder, she scanned the copier room, never noticing just how large the machines were. "Those copiers must cost a fortune to operate and maintain. Toner is so pricey, and the maintenance must be quite a drain on your profits."

Brows drawn together, he studied her. "You have an interest in the printing business, do you?"

In the two years he'd known her, he'd been somewhat interested in her, but he never overtly gave that impression. Other women had occupied what little free time he had, and Marian didn't seem to give him any thought anyway. She was simply a minor distraction when she stopped by his shop weekly, a smart, well-shaped woman to admire and maybe fantasize about on the odd occasion.

Now, Bran found himself fully assessing her as she prattled on about how the equipment in her office was archaic. She was not beautiful, but she was attractive, and the center of her attractiveness was her wholesomeness, her simplicity. With her hood thrown back, her golden-red hair was blown all about her face, damp and curling from the snow. Her green eyes were wild and startled while she spoke, presumably from the flurry of activity upon her arrival. Freckled cheeks were kissed pink from the cold, and her lips still quivered a bit. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was tempted beyond reason to press his lips to hers until they melted against his own. Just thinking about it made him shift uncomfortably. _Why have I never looked at her so closely before? Maybe I should ask her to dinner some time._

"… but you now how engineers are. Cheaper than my grandmother," Marian said with a soft giggle.

"So until your company decides to invest in new equipment, I will reap the rewards of their frugality." She nodded and smiled, still twirling her hair around a finger. Bran wanted to keep the conversation going for just a little longer, needing to get a better picture of what she was all about before asking her on a date. "But they are not so cheap when it comes to their employees, are they? I heard Kirkwall Engineering is throwing their First Day party at the Quail and Hound. Very swank for such a stuffy bunch, don't you think?"

"The owners are just old hippies. They're actually more fun than you'd think, and not everyone is stuffy either, only the folks you've met."

 _Except for you…._ "And I presume you will be there in all your finery?"

"I, um… I haven't decided yet. I think those parties are… are just a lame excuse to get drunk for free and then try to get a raise out of your boss."

Her voice wavered; he knew she was feeding him a line of crap. "That's a ridiculous assumption," he laughed. "Well, maybe not the getting drunk for free part, but why can't you make the most of it and enjoy yourself despite the sophomoric antics of your co-workers?"

 _Sunk. He sees right through me._ _Time to channel Isabela again_. "To be honest, I haven't been able to find a date yet." She spoke so softly, he almost didn't hear her.

"Really?" _This is surprising_. "With so many men and so few women at KE I should think it would be a snap to secure a date."

"I'm really not interested in dating anyone I work with," she said with an endearing yet disgusted expression on her face. "That gets weird _very_ fast."

 _Hm, she's speaking from experience_. "What about someone like me?" he ventured. "I hardly consider our mutual business transactions too close for comfort."

"You? Are you… I mean, would you…." Bran had succeeded in flustering her to the point of speaking in monosyllables. "You want… to… go… with _me_?" She realized that was an idiotic thing to ask since he suggested it, but Marian wasn't used to being _this_ tongue-tied. Nor was she used to her face turning the color of her crimson blouse.

"Perhaps, if you asked nicely." Silent bewilderment was all he got back from her. A small twinge of guilt settled in his stomach, even though he was thoroughly amused by her embarrassment. _I'll go easy on her this time._ He smirked, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Bran," he said in a higher pitch than normal. "Would you like to escort me to the holiday party? Why yes, Marian," he said in his own voice, "that would be delightful." Leaning forward, his display of attention further discomforted her as he waited.

Of course she wanted to go with him. What woman in her right mind would refuse? But the words caught in her throat as if a knot had tied tight around them, preventing her from getting them out. She could only stand and stare as he brushed a wet tendril from her eye. _Maker, this is too much._ A smile crept to her lips and she cleared her throat. "I guess it's a date then… right?"

"It is." _Why does she have such little confidence? She's appealing, sharp. This will not do at all._

"Okay, so when I come back later, I'll give you the details, you know, what to wear and… stuff."

"I think I have an idea about dressing for formal parties." He gave her a meaningful smile, thoroughly smitten with her innocence.

"Right, of course." Her mouth had gone totally dry, her palms sweating. "I need to get back to the office."

"Let me get the door for you, Marian." Before she could tell him it wasn't necessary, Bran hurried around the counter.

"Thank you," she said absently, but then noticed he stayed by her side. She must have given him an odd look. "I'm not really one of those uber-feminist types who get offended by the courteous acts of men."

"I didn't think you were a feminist." She affected him, quite a lot actually, and he couldn't take his eyes from her, though he wasn't sure why. "Sometimes the wind blows open the door, practically taking it right off the hinges." _Why did I just offer that information?_

"Oh, I see." He held the door for her, then kept holding it, obviously waiting for her to say something more. "I didn't know Aveline was a client of yours," she said, mentally slapping herself for such an inane statement.

"A _new_ client," he said. The cold air blew into his shop, and heard the boiler fire up, but he didn't care about the high price of oil at that moment. He held her gaze for a long, searing moment. "If you ask me, I don't think you are in need of any weight loss management products. I like you exactly as you are."

"You do?" Her heart swelled with a surprising emotion, and it took her off guard.

He nodded. "Except for one thing. I wish you were not so anxious about me. I'm not as bold and smug as you expect."

"I don't think you're smug," she defended. "I'm just… surprised you want to go to the party with me."

"Don't be. And don't be nervous. We'll have a fantastic time. In fact, I should have asked you on a date ages ago. " His gaze swept down over the soft curve of her breasts peaking out of her coat and back to her face.

His seductive look made her pulse race. "I agree." _Kiss me, damn it._

"Brush up on your dancing skills, too. It would be a shame not to take advantage of the magnificent ballroom they have at the Quail and Hound." _Should I kiss her?_

"I love to dance," she breathed as he leaned closer.

"Good." He was all too aware that they were not anywhere near being in a private place. His gaze still locked with hers, he lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "Now, get back to the office before they begin to wonder if you've quit. I'll see you later."

"Bye," she whispered, unable to think of anything but how much she wanted him to kiss her. _Plenty of time for that. Stop it right now, Marian._

Sucked out the door with a strong gust of bitter wind, she turned back to wave to him, but he was already gone, back inside the shop. Her heart was fluttering a mile a minute, her body tingling in places she didn't know existed. She smiled.

_Isabela is going to freak the fuck out._


	2. Getting to Know You

Marian floated back to the office on a cloud of delight, almost unable to believe she was going to the party with Bran, that he wanted to spend time with her. So lost in bliss, in fact, she didn't hear the question Sebastian asked as she walked by.

"Marian," he said, a bit louder.

"Huh?" She turned around and saw him standing in the doorway of his office with a perplexed look on his face. "Oh, Seb. Need something?"

Marian was flushed, her hair wet from the snow, sticking up at odd angles. And she looked entirely too cheerful. "Are you all right?" he asked, his first considerate words to her in a long while.

"Yes, I'm good. Just… busy. You know how it is around here before a holiday." She fiddled with her watch, turning it around on her wrist.

Waiting for Sebastian to say something, Marian heard someone approaching fast. Isabela sidled up alongside her, sticking a document in her face, a finger poking her back as an alert. "Marian, I need your input on this and I have to finish it in the next five minutes," she said with feigned urgency.

Unable to repress a smile, Marian looked at Sebastian so he would think the smile was for him. "So… what do you need, Seb?"

"Uh… nothing." She looked—and he found he had to study her again—she looked happy, much happier than she ever was with him. The irony struck him hard. "I'll just get the brochures myself."

"Love that vest," Isabela remarked as she brushed her fingers along his arm.

"Oh, thank you." Sebastian beamed as he tugged at the collar of the vest. "My mother gave it to me as an early First Day present."

"How sweet," Isabela said melodiously, and then she whisked Marian away, leaving Sebastian with his thoughts. "Tell me what happened _this instant_."

"Well, it didn't go so well." Marian sighed dramatically as she sat down at her desk. "I had to tell him to fuck off and die."

"No… That bastard!" Isabela said, her voice barely under control. "I hope you kicked him in balls before you left." Unable to keep up the charade, Marian's frown turned into a mischievous grin. "You little shit," she breathed as it dawned on her. "So he said yes?"

"He actually asked _me_ ," she replied. "In a roundabout way because the conversation was… weird. But yes. I have a date."

"Oh, Marian, what dress will you wear? How about the black one with that daring back cutout? Is he picking you up in an expensive sports car? I think he owns a Viper convertible, not that you can roll the top down with these frigid conditions," she yammered on. "Holy shit, this is fantastic news!"

"Will you keep it down? The whole office can hear you." Marian blew out a long breath. "I have to go back there at the end of the day so I can have those copies here first thing tomorrow."

"Oooh, well, in that case, let's do this." Marian's blouse was not nearly sheer enough for Isabela. Accordingly, she unfastened the top button of the crisply pressed shirt Marian wore so her cleavage was even more visible. "There. That should make his trousers bulge."

"Come on, Bela. I can't do that." Marian's hand flew to her shirt and she fumbled with the button, but Isabela slapped her hand away.

"What is wrong with you? You're not a teenager. You're a grown woman with assets that should be flaunted and appreciated. Do not _touch_ that freakin' button."

"Fine." Marian slapped her hands down onto her thighs, knowing Isabela wouldn't leave her alone if she fastened the button. Then she would certainly not get any work done before five o'clock rolled around.

"Maker, you're uptight. I hope you get a good shag out of this," Isabela muttered as she walked away grinning.

 _Me too_ , Marian thought. _It's been so long…._ Her eyes went to the large clock above her boss's doorway. "Four more hours," she whispered, then sighed and faced her computer screen, repeating over and over the reminder to button up before she left for the day.

* * *

Marian pushed the glass door open, the tinkle of the bell alerting Bran to her presence; only he was too busy cursing into a cell phone to notice her. She crept to the counter, careful to remain silent, and watched as he slammed his fist against the side of a copier, shouting another expletive. When she jumped, his head jerked toward her, his mouth open in surprise. His dark glance lasted a mere moment before he returned his attention to the phone call.

"If he's not here first thing in the morning, you will have lost a client, Sam." With that, Bran ended the call and stuffed the phone back into his pocket. Grinding his teeth, his nostrils flaring, he punched the power button on the machine again, but nothing happened.

She couldn't help but laugh at his dramatic mannerisms. "Good thing it doesn't hit back," she said just loud enough so as not to sound obnoxious.

"This damned thing…." He forced out a loud breath, then grabbed a toner-stained rag and wiped his hands. "Sorry, Marian, but you've just seen me at my most frustrated. I can't get the repairman here until tomorrow because of the damn snow!" He threw down the rag and strode toward her. "But this is none of your concern."

"And are you totally buried in deadlines?"

"Yes, I'm swamped. But I did finish _your_ job," he said, jumping to conclusions about her inquiry.

She let it go, and after a moment of silence on his part, spoke with a note of empathy. "I could… help you? Our machines are older, but I've done this sort of work at the office."

"And do you make a habit of working for no pay?" asked Bran, rather curtly.

"Of course not! My time is worth just as much as yours." When he turned his head toward her again, she saw his frustration and knew it was more with the situation than with her. Then he smiled, albeit a bit guiltily. It made him look younger and very roguish, a special look, one she hadn't seen before, all but melting her. "Oh, you're just teasing me, aren't you?"

"Not really." He drummed his fingers on his chin, and settled his gaze on her. "It's kind of you to overlook my unpleasant disposition. Though I admit I am a bit surprised by your thoughtfulness."

"You'd better watch out, I'm full of surprises." _Did I just say that?_

An eyebrow rose. "I don't doubt it for a minute."

"But seriously," she began, "a long holiday weekend it coming up and there's no point spending the night slaving all by yourself. You know what they say about two hands being better than one."

"It's _two heads_ being better than one."

"Oh, right!" The look in her eyes spoke volumes about how he'd flustered her again, but this time, she didn't try to hide it, although she did try to control it. _Get a hold of yourself, Marian. He's a good guy. Trustworthy and honest and… gorgeous._

"You still seem a bit uptight around me, Marian. We've known each other for a few years now, although… It's a shame we've barely had more than a casual conversation here and there." She tried to look away from him, but he only moved around the counter. "Perhaps this would be a good way to better acquaint ourselves and ease the anxiety you feel. I'm not intimidating, am I?"

 _Intimidating? More like arousing._ "No, you're practical," she said with a nod, as if to prove her point. "Do you moonlight as a shrink?"

"Maker, no!" He moved closer still. "Unless you'd prefer me to delve deep into your mind and control your thoughts."

A frisson of shivers sped along her spine. "I think you've already done that unknowingly." She felt her cheeks heat, her eyes growing as large as his grin at her surprising admission. _Again I'm saying stupid shit?_ _New topic, new topic…._ "I'm curious about how you run a business. You've owned this shop for many years now."

"Do you have aspirations to do the same someday?" he asked, pulling keys from his pocket and heading for the front door.

"It has to beat watching my boss take trips to Orlais three times a year when I can barely afford my rent and car payments."

"I'm sure it took many years of sweat and hard labor on his part to enjoy the finer things now."

She watched as he locked up, a tickle in her throat rising. At hearing the click of the lock, she smiled to herself nervously. _Trapped_. "Oh, I know it's hard work, and you need to be a Type A, anal-retentive crazy person, but it must be worth it." He stopped and glanced at her, looking almost insulted. "Oh, no offense. I'm a bit obsessive as well. We're like two peas in a pod," she said with a lilting voice, her face blankly mystified by her comment once again.

He laughed, handing her his Blackberry. "Here, put your number in my contacts listing."

"Oookay." Her thumbs made short work of the task, and when she saved it, she scanned the surrounding contacts. _Leah, Marisol, Myrna, Naila, Neko… Nubile Toys! Maker's breath…._ A flush raced to her cheeks. _He had to know I'd read them._ She looked at him and smiled a lop-sided smile as she handed the phone back to him. "I put my cell number and e-mail address in there. I don't use the phone at my condo anymore. Do you still use a landline?"

"I do. When the weather is bad, the signal is too weak to make calls from my house."

"Oh right, you live up on the hill. Expensive homes up there, very large and… quite lovely," she said, with a note of admiration in her voice, or perhaps envy.

That piqued his curiosity. "You know," he said, offering a brief squint, "I get the feeling you're taking notes. Adding it all up to see if you end up with a winning ticket."

"You think I'm assessing you?" She kept her tone neutral, but there was little warmth in it. "Like I'm measuring you up to some standard?"

"Perhaps. But I can't blame you. Why go to the effort to get to know me if you see no… future prize on the horizon."

"I'm not a gold-digger, if that's what you're insinuating." With a sour look on her face, her arms folded across her chest. "I know you have money, but that is not why I'm... here. That's quite an insult, you know."

"It was not my intention to insult you," he insisted. "Not at all." _Her pout is lovely though._

"Intention or not, it was the result." If she had to be honest with herself, the fact that he had money was not a bad thing, but her interest in him was far more personal.

"Forgive me, perhaps I used the wrong words," he went on hurriedly. "I only meant that it makes sense for you to rely on first impressions to decide if I'm worthy of your time. I hope I haven't ruined things between us by speaking so bluntly."

"No, you haven't. I just assumed… Look, first of all, I am not interested in your money, and secondly, I've been burned a few times so I'm naturally wary, that's all."

"I understand, more than you can imagine."

His divorce was big news a few years ago. The woman he was married to managed to squeeze him for almost every penny, as well as gaining full custody of their son. Marian never believed the rumors his ex-wife had spread, giving him the benefit of the doubt, even though she hardly knew him. _I hope they were all lies anyway._ She nodded, beginning to feel a little sympathy for him. "Okay, so where were we before the conversation turned?"

"We were discussing the pros and cons of business ownership."

"Right, right. So it's hard work but worth it in the end."

"I think so, even though I work around the clock some days. If I'm not here, I'm at home poring over the accounting books and vendor catalogs." He caught her eye and made a subtle gesture with his hands to follow him to the back room.

"I work a lot of overtime too. At least I'm paid for the extra hours," she said, glancing at him as he led the way. "Although some nights, all I really want to do it sip hot chocolate and watch reality shows, you know, so I can see how good I have it." She stopped to examine a large copier, her hands smoothing along its lines. "High volume finisher. Nice."

He smiled, pleased with her knowledge. "I'm starting to think I should give my part-timer a full-time position. All work and no play… since we were quoting clichés."

She laughed. "Speaking of work, I don't offer unsolicited help very often. Are you interested in putting me to good use here or not?" _Ugh, bad choice of words_.

"I _am_ interested. Very interested," he said, his meaning not lost on her. "So take off your coat and stay awhile." With a softness in his eyes, he bent closer. "Please." And finally she smiled and relaxed.

Tossing her coat on the nearby chair, she turned to him. His gaze was steady, unflinching, a sincere look if ever she'd seen one. Her mouth went dry.

Moving a little closer, he noticed the swell of her breasts under the button she presumably had left undone for his benefit. _Is she truly such a tease?_

"And you're sure you want my help?" she murmured, wide-eyed.

He smiled. "Quite sure." His gaze dropped to the shadowy line of her cleavage.

She peeked downward, forgetting all about Isabela's intervention. _Shit!_ "Oh, I didn't do this on… I mean Isabela did this and I forgot!" Her fingertips turned to jelly as she fumbled with the button, excitement and embarrassment making her clumsy and uncoordinated.

"Allow me, Marian." He touched her face, let his hand trail down across her breast, and then slowly he began to reach for the button.

She could feel his warm breath there, his knuckles moving gently against her breast and her legs trembled beneath her. He fastened the button, his mouth just inches from her lips. "Thanks." Marian struggled to speak and wasn't certain if she said the word or imagined she said it. _Maker, help me_.

His head tilted down just a fraction, his lips almost touching hers. "I want to kiss you," he murmured, his mouth hovering above hers. "Is that all right with you?"

The silence in the shop grew thick, the air electric with unspoken desires. "Yes," she said, speaking with as much firm conviction as she could force into one word.

He saw the bloom of color sweep into her cheeks, heard the quick intake of her breath, and then she was in his arms. His mouth barely touched hers, soft, sweet, and gentle. The kiss was tentative, exploring. He moved his lips over hers, parting them, softly nibbling as languid warmth, like thick honey, spread through her, weakening her legs. His tongue slipped into her mouth, and she could no more stop the tremble that ran through her than she could stop the tiny whimper at the back of her throat. It was difficult to think straight when he was holding her so intimately, one of his hands in her hair and the other tracing lines down her back. His lips skimmed along her neck, his breath warm and damp along her sensitized skin, and she closed her eyes and moaned softly as arousal coursed through her veins.

"You feel it like I do, something happening between us," he whispered when they parted. "Don't you, Marian?"

When she opened her eyes, he was watching raptly, his pupils dilated. She inhaled sharply, the stir of sensual need suddenly overwhelming her. She looked into those intense amber pools and her heart beat faster and faster. "Yes, I… feel something, and…kiss me again." She pressed closer to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, loving the way she felt around him.

They kissed hard, and he pulled her even tighter against him, so soft and feminine and warm. He loved the way she felt, the way she melted against him, fitting like a glove around a hand. Her hands were caressing his shoulders and it was agony to maintain his discipline. Yes, he'd surprised himself and judging from the expression on her face, he'd surprised Marian, as well. But he never expected the rush of heat and need pulsing inside him. She'd caught him off guard, that was for sure.

He cupped her head between his hands and tipped her face so he could look into her eyes. "I can't promise you I'll stop if I kiss you again," he said in a husky voice, gazing into her eyes with a warmth that made her feel cherished, even though she barely knew him. "I'm not exactly feeling in control of myself here."

She tried to process what he was saying, wriggling against him, feeling strong and yet helpless in his grasp. Was he was trying to be a gentleman? Isabela said he'd sleep with anyone, everyone, not caring about who or why or where…. If Marian had been feeling more herself, she might have rolled her eyes and laughed. But she wasn't.

 _Do not give in, do not rush it_ , _not yet_ , said an inner voice. "I'm not feeling so patient right now myself. But...I'm scared. I'm scared because I've never felt more myself than I do right now," she admitted. "I can't believe I'm telling you this. It's crazy. I've gone crazy," she said and turned away. He grabbed her hand, forcing her to look at him. "Why are you smiling?" she snapped.

"I'm not really sure," he said, "but you're smiling, too." Now they were both laughing and he reached out for her other hand. "Still eager to spend time with me then?"

Her tongue darted out to moisten her pink lips. "I am, and maybe you're right. This is a good way to get to know each other. Although I normally don't make out first and _then_ ask questions."

"Are you always direct and open with men?" he asked, intrigued with her fresh attitude about him.

"No, I'm not always open with men." Then she shook her head and took it back. "I'm never this open." She realized with a small shock that she felt very safe with him. It _was_ easy for her to relax in his presence. She hadn't felt anything even close to this feeling since... well, never.

He stared at her, his mind moving slowly. He saw no coyness in her, no game of saying no, but meaning yes. One thought kept replaying in his mind: she was aroused, and she wanted him. "I like honesty, straightforward conversation, and I'm certainly pleased to see you more relaxed. Can I safely assume you feel comfortable in my presence now?"

She nodded, smiling awkwardly. "It's an effort though, believe me." He eyed her, a flash of confusion drawing his brows together. "Oh, not because of you! It's an effort for me to speak plainly with men and… in case you haven't noticed, I am a bit inhibited."

"But you're in marketing," he replied. "You can't be inhibited on the job."

"I'm not. It's strictly reserved for a man who may be a … well, boyfriend seems an absurd word to use for anyone over twenty-five… a potential lover?"

"Well, as your _potential lover_ , I will have to break you of that habit," he said hoarsely, pulling her tightly against him for a brief moment. "In any case, I might have you running from here screaming that I'm a slave driver. So pick your poison. Sorting, copying or toner duty?"

"Hmm… how about copying?" Maker, she was giddy. No, she was nervous. Well okay, she was both. She imagined lying beside him, a hand on her naked hip, their legs intertwined, his gorgeous eyes staring dreamily at her, lips turned up in a blissful smile. And if she was this aroused, and he was aroused, then…. She heard him chuckle.

"A little distracted, are you?"

Well, that was the understatement of the century. She swallowed against the tightness in her throat and whispered, "You really have to tell me what needs to get done here."

He let out a hearty laugh. "I'm distracted by you too," he confessed. For a moment, she looked as if she were unsure of what he meant.

"You mean you're attracted to me, right?"

"It's hard not to be, Marian. You have an air of innocence and freshness, a mystique about you that enchants me," he said truthfully. "Although I know you are not naive." He gave in to the temptation to caress her cheek, which felt more like a deep need than an impulse.

She let her head lull into the caress, a gesture drawing him even closer. He wrapped his arm around the side of her waist, bringing her body to brush against his. Mimicking him, her fingertips traced the angles of his face. "After you give me a quick kiss, I'll get to work."

He bent his head, tangling his hands in her hair, his lips seeking hers hungrily, possessive and devouring. She felt the slight stubble on his jaw as he brushed his face against her cheek, then inhaled the aftershave lingering on his skin. Marian fought the impulse for more. "If we finish all of this, you can relax the entire weekend… with me."

"Now _that_ is a worthy goal, Marian."

* * *

A roaring fire warmed Bran as he studied the latest spreadsheet of the print shop's earnings. He hadn't been home more than ten minutes and already finances, coupled with the next work day, loomed before him. With his laptop perched on the arm of the sofa, he sipped his whiskey and stared into the flames. "This is no way to live, alone and adding up the revenue with no one to spend it on but that shrew."

Grabbing his cell phone, he thought he should check on Marian. After all, the snow was deep and treacherous. Would a phone call be too forward? He decided a text would serve his purpose without seeming overly aggressive.

Hunting and pecking, Bran typed out his message in full words and sentences; chat lingo was for teenagers.

_Hello, Marian. I just wanted to thank you again for helping me out tonight. I'm looking forward to_

"Getting in your pants," he said, chuckling to himself. "No, no. This woman is different."

_I'm looking forward to escorting you to the party tomorrow night. Since I don't know what color dress you're wearing, would you prefer me to wear a black, dark brown or dark green suit? Or something else? I have a tux in my closet. And I need your address as well._

"And I sound like a dullard. Maker's breath." Closing his eyes, he sighed, feeling old and very out-dated. "To delete or not?" Just to satisfy his curiosity, he quickly typed some ridiculousness.

_WTF? AFAIK, u want me 2. epic fail FTW :/_

**delete, delete, delete**

"No, that is not who I am."

_Text me back so I know you have arrived safely. Or call me if you like. 555-6512. See you later - Bran._

"Good." Oh, how the send button mocked him just then. "It's better than good, damn it." He read the message one more time, and satisfied, he moved closer to a large window to enhance transmission, if possible. He pushed the "send" button, staring at the indicator bar as his text went to the nearest tower. Not a minute had passed when his phone alerted him to an incoming text. "Here we go."

_Hi Bran. Thx 4 the checkup. If u ctc gmac. Im jc and btw Tux=OTT :P_

"What in bloody blazes does that mean?" He immediately searched a chat dictionary on the Internet. "Let's see," he said scrolling through the alphabetic listing. "If you care to chat… give me a call… I'm just chilling," he translated. "'Economy of words' has new meaning. And of _course_ the tux was over the top." He shook his head. "Stupid."

After checking her number, he tossed his cell phone aside, opting for the crisp, clear sound of the landline. He whispered under his breath as the phone rang in his ear. "What mystery awaits me, I wonder?"

"Hello?"

"Marian?"

She laughed. "Who else would it be, Bran?"

"Right. So you made it home okay?"

"It took a little longer than I'd expected, but yes. Thank you for asking. Oh, before I forget, grab a pen and I'll give you directions to my condo. Pick me up at seven sharp. Rap on the door three times, and three times only."

 _Interesting_. "Ordering me around already, hm?" He heard her giggle as he picked up a pen and a notepad. "Go ahead."

Listening to her talk on the phone, she seemed much more relaxed, almost… giddy. Was it because of him, because of his kiss and his touch? Or what he implied about a connection he felt? He propped his feet up on the couch and settled in, hoping for a lengthy and revealing conversation, the accounting be damned.

_Some things are more important than money._


	3. Until the Morning Sun

Lost in thought, Marian stared at the copies shooting out the side of the antiquated copy machine. She had spent two solid hours on the phone with Bran the night before, trading childhood anecdotes, dating disaster stories, even some personal and professional history, although Marian kept quiet about her past relationship with Sebastian.

The debate they amicably carried on about where someone should go if they were invisible for a day was a highlight. Bran jokingly mentioned a women's dressing room, but Marian had thought of a men's locker room; it seemed their minds worked in similar ways, even if half the population would have answered the same. In the end, they both agreed it would be a tossup between playing pranks on friends and stowing away on a cruise ship bound for an exotic location. She smiled at how they both agreed they would have to apologize to their friends or pay the cruise company afterward. _Sharing similar moral convictions has to be a good sign, right?_

The loud buzz of her phone's intercom snapped her out of the trance. "Marian, line two for you."

Marian dove for the phone in her cubicle, her mind racing in hopes Bran was calling. "Who is it, Joan?"

"Some vendor, I think."

"Oh. Thanks." She sighed and hung up. "I could call him. It's already late afternoon," she said to the flashing red light. "Well, maybe I'll wait a little while." Pushing the button, she answered, her voice flat and lifeless. "Marketing. This is Marian Hawke."

"Do you always answer the phone sounding so bored?"

"Hi! I was just distracted because I was thinking about our conversation last night." _Whoa, tone it down, Marian._ When she heard Isabela chuckle, Marian threw a balled up piece of paper over the cubicle wall.

"I can't remember the last time I spent two hours talking on the phone," he said. "But you only succeeded in puzzling me more. It will take a considerable amount of time to figure you out, I think."

"Well, I can say the same for you, but I'm looking forward to the challenge," she said, wondering why she suddenly felt warm. "Speaking of challenges, are you still on schedule?"

"I'm ahead of schedule, so I'm leaving a little early. Rick can lock up tonight."

"Maker, how long does it take you to put on a suit?"

"Men need to primp just as long as women."

"Some men maybe," she teased. There was absolute silence on the other end of the phone. "Hello? You still there, Bran?"

"Oh, yes… I have a couple questions. What is your favorite color, and do have any activities you pursue regularly? Somehow we didn't cover any of this last night."

 _What is he doing, buying my services?_ Then she shook her head at such a thought. "Oh, you don't have to… do that. Honestly. I don't need a gift or a corsage like we're going to the prom."

"A _corsage_ is not quite what I had in mind," he snapped, sounding annoyed. "Maybe you think I'm old-fashioned, but if you won't cooperate, I'll just do as I see fit."

"Oh no, I actually like romantic gestures," she said, her mind racing at the implication of his questions. "My favorite color is midnight blue, you know, from the Crayola box. And the only hobby I have when it's this cold is sleeping." Marian paused when he laughed. She had to admit she loved his laugh. It wasn't obnoxiously loud or booming, but a deep chuckle rumbling like distant thunder. "I do like to go fishing when it warms up. Not on opening day, of course, because that's when all the amateurs go and make a mess of things."

"Fishing? Truly? "

"Yes, I fly-fish. My cousin is a fishing guide in Ostwick. He's outfitted me with some of the best equipment you can buy. And I tie my own flies, too." _Please don't tell me he's a chauvinist_. "Is there something wrong with that?"

"No, not at all," he replied. "I've done my share of fly-fishing in recent years. I was just expecting you would say yoga or scrapbooking, maybe shopping."

It was her turn to laugh. "I only go to the mall when I'm forced to, like when I have to buy presents."

"Okay, so you like to fish, and you like crayons. Perhaps a coloring book of different fish species would suffice."

"You joke, but I love to color. I really do! It's very therapeutic."

"You are… different from other women, aren't you, Marian?"

She wasn't certain how to take his remark. "Just as you're different from other men." Marian could hear Isabela laughing at her and making wise cracks, but for once, she didn't care. "Don't you ever take the time to get to know the women you date?"

"Not often enough, it seems."

"Then we should spend some time asking each other questions tonight."

"Maybe, although the last time I bared my soul, my ex-wife quoted me in the Kirkwall Journal."

Marian barked a laugh. "Oh, I'm sorry, but I had forgotten about that. Bran, I would never tell anyone something you've told me in confidence. That woman is such a bitch," she blurted. Her eyes widened, then snapped shut. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

"You're right, though. And 'bitch' is putting it mildly."

There was silence on the other end again, and it was just long enough to raise the hair on the back of her neck. _Shit, why did I say that? She's the mother of his kid!_

"I'm going to let you go now, Marian. I'll see you tonight."

Her heart fell a bit. "Okay… But before you hang up…."

"Hm?"

"I think we'll have lots of fun tonight, and I'm really excited about dancing with someone enjoys it as much as I do." _Ugh. I sound overeager._

"I'm excited to see you, too," he said, his voice warmer now.

She smiled to herself, but was fully aware Isabela was now watching her. Even so, some of the tenseness left her at his assertion. But his next proposal nearly blew her socks off.

"Let's hope the weather remains calm and warm like it is right now. Then we can go to Sundermount for some star gazing."

Silence. She held her breath, not moving, long moments passing.

"Marian?"

"Yes, that would be so… great." _Holy shit!_ "Okay, I'll see you later. Bye, Bran." She hung up the phone and stared at the papers she absently shuffled in her hands. "Sundermount for star gazing.…"

"Is that what he said?" Isabela mocked up as she came around the corner. "Making out at Sundermount! Like teenagers!"

"I think it's very romantic." Marian grimaced and averted her eyes.

"Maybe Fenris and I could tag along." Leaping to her feet, Marian's eyes filled with panic. "I'm joking," Isabela said. "Just make sure you put a blanket down before you go at it. Believe me, sweaty naked skin on leather seats does not make for good sex."

"I am not having sex with him in the backseat of a car," she whispered.

Isabela's eyes lit up, a grin beginning to appear on her lips. "So you _are_ planning to fuck him."

"Do me a favor and don't say 'fuck' when you're talking about my sex life."

"Oh, right," she drawled. "You're going to make passionate love and angels will sing while fireworks explode in the sky in celebration of your mutual adoration."

"Something like that." _She makes me sound so pathetic._

"Are you for real?" Isabela asked in the most disapproving tone she could muster up. "You're going to fuck, plain and simple."

"Is that how it is with Fenris?" Marian turned to face Isabela directly. "Don't you love him?"

"We have our… _thing_ and it works for us. Love would only complicate matters." Her slight frown disappeared, a mischievous smile taking its place. "Do you really think Bran will stick around if you don't sleep with him? His reputation says otherwise."

"If all he wants is sex, then he can go screw someone else. I've already been down that road, and you know it," Marian said. "That asshole cop tossed me aside like a sack of garbage when he got bored. I won't go through that again. I won't."

"Oh yeah, Aveline's buddy. He _was_ an asshole," Isabela agreed. "Well, get what you can out of Bran now because you're delusional if you think romantic love is alive and well in this town. Look how his first marriage ended."

"So? I'm nothing like Katriela," said Marian, looking down at the ground. "She's a user and all she wanted was his money. I wouldn't be surprised if Bran is looking for something more… meaningful now."

"Dream on, sister, dream on."

"Okay, this conversation is over," Marian said, shoving a document into the file drawer. "Just try not to bring me down with this kind of crap tonight, all right?"

"Oh, you know I won't." Isabela leaned in to whisper. "But you _have_ to call me if you fuck."

"You're hopeless." She grabbed Isabela by the shoulders and pushed her in the direction of her cubicle.

Two hours later, Marian had typed the last of her letters, tidied the piles, and shut down her computer. It was time for her to shift gears, happy to leave work behind and head home to get dressed for the party. As she got into the car, her phone buzzed with an incoming text. She giggled to herself when she saw it was from Bran. "Aw, he's thinking about me."

When she turned the key in the ignition, the car growled at her, then stopped. "Not now! Come _on!_ " Two more tries, and the engine started, running steadily as she tapped the gas pedal. She flipped on the heat and settled in to read his message.

_Hi, Marian. I forgot to ask, and this is really important: do you eat the fish you catch?_

It seemed sweet to see his words spelled out properly, like a personal letter. The romantic in her decided to do the same.

_No. I hate all seafood. I'm a meat and potatoes kind of girl. And don't you forget it. ;)_

_I won't. You have 90 minutes left. I'm already dressed and ready to go._

_You can't come early! Sorry. Take a nap._

_Can't. Too busy thinking of you._

_XD Good thoughts?_

_Naughty thoughts._

_Care to share?_

_Yes. In person. Later._

_Meanie. I'm driving home now. See you in 90._

_85._

"Wow, even his texts turn me on." Smiling like a lunatic, she imagined his voice, husky in her ear, his fingertips stroking her, his lips coming closer to hers… goose bumps skittered over her skin, her stomach clenching in anticipation of seeing him again.

_An hour and a half… It'll be the longest ninety... eighty-five minutes of my life._

* * *

Knocking three times, as instructed, Bran waited for Marian to reach the door. He straightened his clothes, then the knot of his tie, checking his breath with his other hand before sweeping it along the side of his head to smooth his hair. _Damn, I haven't been this eager to spend time with a woman in years._

"Come in!"

"She's not very worried about intruders," he mumbled, turning the doorknob. "Marian? It's me."

"I know! Come in, Bran!"

He pushed open the door a little more and saw a candle on a nearby table, infusing the room with the scent of… bayberry, if he was correct. He also heard a melody of the theme song from a recent movie playing in the background, soft and low. Confidence at an all-time high, he pushed the door open further and slipped inside. There she stood, nestled in a thick terry robe, her hair in a turban, her face free of makeup. She was a picture of vulnerability and sweetness as she smiled at him, motioning for him to come inside.

 _Oh Maker, he is gorgeous_. She couldn't see his suit under the Burberry overcoat he wore, but she was sure it would be impressive. "Relax for a few minutes. I'll be ready in no time."

Bran stepped a little closer, his eyes full of curiosity, lips parted. "The door was unlocked. Why did you tell me to knock three times?"

"I was kind of joking about knocking three times," said with a giggle. "You know the song, don't you? Knock three times on the ceiling if you waaant meeee," she sang, albeit off key, "twice on the pipe if the answer is noooo." He had such a perplexed look on his face, she assumed he didn't know the song, and she laughed aloud. "I can't believe you don't know it! Have you been living in a mayonnaise jar half your life?"

"Of course I know it," he said as his eyes rolled. "I'm just surprised _you_ know it." Yanking the towel from her head, her hair fell about her shoulders in tangled waves. His gaze roamed over her in the most brazen of ways, like a man appreciating erotic art.

She ignored his heated stare, but something tugged at her, and in all the right places. "I'm not _that_ much younger than you. Besides, my mother kept an oldies station on all the time when I was a kid. I listen to all kinds of music anyway… pop, classical, rock, dance hall." _I'm babbling again_. "You like music, right?"

"I do. And my tastes in music might vary as much as yours _." If only I knew what lay under that robe… Stop it and have some patience, man,_ he chided himself. "If we don't get going, we may miss the party."

There was something so hot about him, and it wasn't just his good looks — something more, an air of confidence, almost a swagger. She felt a surge of attraction so strong, she wanted to reach out and pull him to her. "Office parties are for chumps, you know."

"But you said you were excited to go." His gaze roamed over her face, thoughtful and measuring. "Have you changed your mind?"

"Honestly? I'd rather hang out here and chat with you, but since I've committed, I can't back out now." He arched a brow and continued his lazy assessment, a slight narrowing of his eyes as he paused to admire her legs. She inhaled. When he looked back up again, his gaze moved to the damp hair framing her face. All he had to do was look at her and her skin heated. "Do you want to kiss me now… or later?" She made a funny, uncertain face, her mouth pulled to the side. "I waited on the lipstick."

"Oh you did, did you?" He sounded bemused. _Is this a challenge, some sort of glove thrown down?_ "The thought had crossed my mind," he admitted. Suppressed passion almost made him shudder, and he longed to tear the robe from her body and carry her to the bed. But he didn't. Moving closer, he stroked the skin of her neck, then pushed his fingers through her hair, dipping his head, brushing his lips against hers. He'd meant it to be brief, only a touch, a promise of what could be. But then he tasted her, the faint, lingering tang of mint on her lips and something else that was hers alone. The kiss turned explosive, feral, angles changing again and again as they tried to feed the demanding hunger rising between them.

He pulled his mouth away just enough to speak. "Are you interested in any other men?"

"No."

"And has anyone ever kissed you like this?"

"Never."

"Good."

Marian let out a shuddering gasp as he conquered her mouth again, bringing her back against the wall. With his kiss, he broke down her defenses, until she was trembling under the onslaught. Sliding his fingers into her hair again, he increased the pressure, a kiss that was deep and sensual. The tingling weakness turned into a rush, and Marian tightened her grip around his neck, her senses swimming out of control. As the kiss ended, they clung to each other, their breaths ragged, their hearts pounding. A sigh escaped her lips before she opened her eyes, and when she raised her lashes, she saw a glimpse of possession in his dark eyes. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking about how you'd look without a robe."

She laughed, exhilarated by the sincerity of his desire for her. "You're not alone in those kinds of thoughts, but…."

"I know."

Both of them craved more, wanted more, but it wasn't the right time. They pulled apart, but only slightly at first.

"I'll be ready in a flash," she whispered, then disappeared into the bedroom, putting her head around the closing door. Smiling, she lingered a moment to bask in the tender, sweet excitement he had released in her. "Don't go anywhere."

"I wouldn't dream of it," he said softly.

"Help yourself to a drink or snack or whatever!" she shouted from her bedroom.

Bran wasn't comfortable snooping around her kitchen, so he opted to busy himself with finding a place to hide the gift he had brought, hoping it would surprise her later that night. Marian had mentioned she always had music playing, even when she was asleep. The perfect spot, he decided, was on a small stereo, just behind a stack of compact discs. After placing the gift-wrapped box carefully, he peered at the discs, hoping to glean some secret knowledge about her.

 _Quite a variety,_ he thought _. Every Coldplay album. Good. Now I know what to play in the car. Ah, the Barry White is very encouraging. Some classical, reggae, rock and… I can't even pronounce that one. She clearly has me beat here._

A disc sheathed in a plain white sleeve caught his eye. He picked it up and whispered the title. "Sebastian Mix." Then he flipped it open to scan the song listing. It was a collection of romantic songs, all of which he knew, with smooth and sultry rhythm tracks. _An old boyfriend, hm? But why is this disc so close to the top of the pile?_ Bran felt a moment of jealousy, then quickly squashed the thought.

Standing with his back to the wall, he took in his surroundings, noting the trinkets adorning a cabinet where a display of finely tied flies perched. Upon closer inspection, he admired their slim bodies and low set wings all finished off with the tiniest and neatest heads. She certainly had more talent for it than he had. Turning, he assessed the position of her furniture, the neat pile of magazines on the coffee table, the freshly vacuumed carpet, all in an effort to understand her more personally. Still, he required more. While he waited, he thought through all the questions he would to ask her that night.

Fifteen minutes later, she quietly emerged from the bedroom a transformed woman. A long-sleeved, black velvet dress, with a tantalizing dip in the neckline, softly hugged her curves. Glancing at herself in a mirror, she felt she had never looked as stylish in her life.

Bran was standing near the window, staring outside, his coat carefully draped over a chair. The hunter green suit he wore set off his auburn hair, and even from behind, she knew how handsome he looked.

"Well? What do you think?" she asked with a twirl around.

Their eyes locked, and for a moment, they both hesitated, as if taking a breath in unison. He licked his lips as he stared at her breasts **,** then his eyes burned a path down the length of her body, before settling on her face again, but he remained silent.

Her face fell. "You're not saying anything so you must not be very impressed."

"On the contrary. You look stunning." Her smile was wide and genuine. The sweetness about her face, the expression of serenity, was so palpable he almost thought she glowed. He went to her and laid his hands on her shoulders, warmth in his voice as he spoke. "Marian, you're beautiful."

"You are too… I mean you look handsome. Very handsome."

He took her hand and moved it to his lips, placing a soft kiss in her palm. "Shall we go then?"

She nodded, feeling a bit nervous, but composed. "I think we make an attractive couple, don't you?"

He leaned toward her and squeezed her hand, smiling. "I do."

They left, arm in arm, like two preoccupied lovers, jealous of every minute that separated them.

* * *

On arriving at the Quail and Hound, Bran followed Marian to the reception area where her manager greeted them. Jack was her superior, but he was also something of a father figure, having been golfing partners with Marian's father for several years before his death. Ever since, he made a habit of scrutinizing all her potential boyfriends, but she didn't mind; Jack was an excellent judge of character. Marian introduced the two men, noting the calculating look on Jack's face as they shook hands and spoke, his demeanor suggesting he approved of Bran. She smiled at Jack affectionately, and he gave her quick wink and a nod before moving on.

"You're wearing perfume," Bran said as he took off Marian's wrap. He hadn't noticed in the car, but when he'd leaned in close and caught the scent, it almost intoxicated him.

"It's not perfume exactly. It's an almond cookie and shea butter lotion."

"Mmm, sounds delicious," he whispered. "It makes me want to taste you all the more."

"Stop saying things like that to me," she murmured. "I feel like you're playing with me."

He shook his head. "I do not play games with potential lovers, to use your terminology. Life's too short for such nonsense."

"I agree." She looked him in the eyes, her own sharply passionate and inviting. "I'm glad you're a man of conviction."

Entwining her fingers with his, she held him tight as they walked into the ballroom, his hand a comforting anchor as the room spun around her. Marian ignored the stares they received from her other colleagues, bee lining for the table where Isabela and Fenris were seated with their other friends, Anders, Sebastian, and Varric. Isabela was staring, dumbstruck, as Marian and Bran approached.

"Hi, guys," Marian said, then introduced them to her date. They were all friendly, greeting Bran as if he were an old friend, all except for Sebastian. He shook Bran's hand, but barely spoke above a whisper, looking away before Marian could even say hello. _What a jerk. Ach, whatever._ "Hey, Varric, where's Merrill? Your chest hair finally scare her off?"

"Nah, she came down with that stomach bug going through the office."

"A convenient excuse, if you ask me," Anders said.

"And you didn't offer to follow her around with a bowl?" Marian joked.

Varric found her candor surprising, if not shocking. "Actually, I did. Playing nursemaid has to beat hanging around with this sorry lot," Varric said, gesturing toward everyone.

"Oh, somehow I doubt that," Marian said, glancing at Bran. A slight shiver ran through her when she saw his burning eyes fastened on her face.

Isabela grabbed Marian's hand, pulling her down onto the chair next to her. "You look fabulous, and I'm totally jealous. In fact, I think I need a shot… or three." Isabela looked over at Bran. "I'm going to steal her for just a minute."

Bran nodded amicably when Marian gave him a questing look. "I'll inspect the silverware for food remnants while you're gone."

"You're not even joking, are you?" He laughed, shaking his head, but before he could answer, Isabela was dragging Marian toward the bar.

"You better keep a short leash on this guy. Did you see Elsa? She was ogling him like a pervert in a porn shop."

"As creepy as that sounds, I'm rather happy someone is noticing my date for once."

"Nobody gave a shit about Sebastian because we work with him. But Bran, oh sweetie, I swear to the Maker, he is the hottest guy here tonight."

"Is he?" Marian looked back at their table. Bran's face lit up, and he gave her a little wave of reassurance. "I think you're right."

"Hey handsome," Isabela said to the bartender, "why don't you line up some tequila shots for me and my friend here. Too bad we can't do body shots," she said with a playful poke to Marian's arm.

Marian grinned. "I also need a Glenlivet, please. Make it neat."

On the count of three, they each downed a shot, Marian wincing as the liquid burned its way down her throat, warming her stomach. As Isabela slammed down her shot glass, the bartender had two more ready for them. Sucking hard on the lemon, Marian downed the next shot in one gulp.

"No more for me," Marian said. "I don't want to get drunk tonight."

"Well, I want to get drunk!" A third shot went down Isabela's throat, and then she patiently eyed her friend. "All right, Marian. Go on back to your stud. But send Fenris over here. It's fun getting him drunk. He does this thing with his tongue…."

Marian held up a hand. "I get the picture, Bela." Released from bar duty, Marian danced back to the table, returning to her seat beside Bran and handing him the glass of whiskey she'd procured for him.

"Thank you, but this is a little backwards," he paused and took a sip. "Normally I'm the one getting the drink for my date."

"You're not used to things not going your way, are you?"

"I am not."

"Stick with me, Bran. I've got it down to a science," she said with a hint of pessimism. "Hey Fenris, Isabela wants you at the bar, pronto!"

"She does look lonely," Fenris said with a gleam in his eye as he stared at Isabela's backside. "Excuse me."

Just then, the disc jockey kicked off the party with a familiar song and everyone rushed to the dance floor, or the bar, as was the case with Sebastian, leaving Marian and Bran alone.

"So," she said to Bran, "I can't imagine you learned anything exciting about me from those guys." When she looked at him, he was staring at her. "What, have I grown another head?"

"You believe you don't have anything interesting about you?"

"I don't know what I meant by that," she confessed with a sheepish laugh. But in her laugh was a hint of a deeper anxiety. She shrugged. "Did Sebastian say anything to you?"

"Not a word." He gave her a sly smile. "An old boyfriend I presume?"

She nodded. "It didn't end well. He hates me now."

"Actually, I think he feels quite the opposite," he said in a low voice.

"No, no, no. That's imposs-" Cut off by the opening horn arrangement of _Knock Three Times_ , her eyes flew to Bran's. "Did you…?" He just smiled. "Come on! We _have_ to dance to it now!"

"It's not exactly the most danceable song," he shouted as she took his hand and pulled him along.

"We'll make it up as we go along!"

Except for one couple locked in an unhurried sway, the dance floor had cleared out, leaving Marian and Bran in the center. Her arms went around the back of his neck, and she laughed loudly as he spun her around, then drew her swiftly back into his arms, close to his body again.

"So what's up with that guy?" Sebastian asked his friends, tasting the bile rising in his throat.

"The printer guy? Beats me," Varric answered. "Maybe it was a blind date."

"The last blind date I went on didn't include dancing like that," said Anders, watching as Bran whispered something that made Marian look into his eyes dreamily. "I've never seen Marian so… unreserved. I thought you were going to ask her, Seb. What happened?"

"Obviously, she would've said no," Sebastian mumbled, staring at Marian with narrowed eyes.

"Yup, that's our man Vael," Anders said. "Never one to go out on a limb for a girl."

As the music rose to a crescendo, Bran took Marian's hand, twirling her around three times, then pulling her toward him in one fast, fluid movement. She rolled into him, pressing her palm flat against his chest in a controlled, sensual movement as she slid closer into his body, then pushed off of him, rolling backward and motioning to him with a come-hither finger.

"They're dancing like they've been partners for years," Varric said. "What type of dance is that anyway? Some sort of rumba?"

"They've thrown in some of their own moves, but it's similar to a… _slow_ tango, very rhythmic and sensual," Fenris offered as he sat down. "I think they dance quite well together. See there, those first steps are the _salida_. When a foot is crossed in front of or in back of the other, that's the _cruzada_ , and it then it ends with the _resolución_."

"Ooh, Fenris," Isabela sang, her mouth on Fenris's ear, "I love when you speak in Antivan. It makes me want to…."

All eyes looked away from Isabela and Fenris's tender moment, refocused on the dance floor. Varric and Anders smiled a little wistfully, while Sebastian seethed.

It looked as if the rift between Marian and Sebastian had grown too wide to cross. Envy pierced his heart as he watched her and Bran remain on the dance floor, a slow song beginning to play. The look on Marian's face was anything but bored. Deeply content came to mind. They danced together, his arm around her waist, her cheek not an inch away from his lips, swaying in time to a song whose title escaped Sebastian, not that he was really trying to remember. Marian's lips moved as she sang the song, and although Sebastian couldn't hear her, a shiver slipped up his spine remembering the way she'd sang to him many times in the past. Bran was the receiver of those sweet attentions now. Shoving back his chair, he headed for the bar, hoping to dull the ache in his chest.

* * *

Bran found Marian out on the ballroom's balcony, staring at the serene view of the snow-covered woods behind the lodge. Muted lights illuminated a frozen fountain, which glowed under the melting ice.

"Finally, I have you all to myself." He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Aren't you cold?"

"Not anymore." He pulled her closer, kissing the side of her neck and her shoulders. She closed her eyes, reveling in his touch. "Sorry I disappeared. I just needed a few minutes away from the noise. Do you ever feel that way?"

He nodded. "If you'd like to leave, I can take you home now. Some rain is moving in, and the cloud cover will prevent us from seeing any stars at Sundermount."

"That's why I'm looking at the stars now. Aren't they beautiful?" she asked as he moved to stand next to her.

"Yes." His eyes never left her face, wanting to watch every little flicker of emotion she was feeling.

"I had a fantastic time tonight, Bran." She felt herself melting under his warm, smiling eyes, mesmerized by what she saw in their depths. "You made me feel like a princess the entire evening. It was the best time I have ever had. I just wish I could always feel like this."

"Who says you can't?" He pulled her closer, kissing her to remind her she was a very desirable woman, kissing her because, more and more, all he wanted to do was kiss her. "I can't resist you," he said quietly. "You know that, don't you? I won't pretend I can." He kissed her lips, her cheek, her chin, and her neck. Concerned that he might be moving too quickly, he slowed for a moment, pushing his reckless impulses aside. "I can't believe how much I want you, but if this is too much, too soon...?"

Marian shook her head. "No, Bran, it's not too much or too soon. These past two days, the dances we've shared tonight, our conversations, right now… as trite as it sounds, I feel connected to you in a way I've never felt before." She gazed at him, her eyes softer than he'd ever seen them. "I don't want this night to end."

Surprised not only at the sentiment but also by the admission, he stroked his fingertips across her cheek, then down her neck to her shoulders, taking his time, enjoying how beautiful she looked in the pale light. "It doesn't have to end, Marian. I don't want it to end either." He heard the words slipping from his lips and knew he meant them. "Let's go and do something else, make the night last as long as we can... stay up until dawn if we like."

Without even thinking about it, she hugged him, holding him close for a moment. "Take me away then."


	4. After Darkness, Light

Bran ran to his car to grab an umbrella as the first sprinkling of rain began. He held it over Marian's head and escorted her down the stairs, helping her into the car. The rain came down in a sudden torrent, the lightning flashes almost blinding. For a few minutes, they drove along in silence, both caught in their own thoughts about where the night might lead.

Marian pushed the disc they had listened to earlier into the slot, adjusting the volume to low. "I love storms like this, such a wild energy," she said as they headed toward downtown. "But you can't smell the earth and the trees like you can in Bloomingtide. That's when I like to open that big window in my living room and breathe in nature's perfume as the storms roll in."

He tensed, his fingers gripping the steering wheel tighter. "Is that what you'd like to do right now?"

"Well… since we've left the clamor of the party, I sort of feel like relaxing and not being somewhere noisy again. Would you mind very much?"

_Damn it, her condo is only minutes away_. Frustration flooded his body as he made the turn toward her street. "No problem at all." His tone was sharper than he intended, and he regretted it immediately when he saw her head snap up. "I'll call you tomorrow and maybe we can go to dinner and a movie."

"Oh, you… you don't want to come inside?" He pulled into to a parking spot right near the walkway to her front door. "I mean, you don't have to, but if you want to…."

He turned off the engine and undid his seat belt, drawing in a deep breath. "Marian, I want to spend time with you. I want to spend a lot of time with you, actually. But I sense you're uncomfortable with the idea of being alone with me tonight. I promise, I'm not out to get you into bed." Looking at her a bit guiltily, he grinned. "Well, not tonight at any rate."

Surprised? Offended? Turned on? All three emotions muddled her expression. "I just want to get to know you better before we… you know," she paused and swallowed hard, gesturing back and forth between them with her hand. "But I'm not afraid of you if that's what you're suggesting." Her palms were sweating now, and she ached with disappointment. At the same time, she was angry about his assumption. She lifted her head high and squared her shoulders, something she'd gotten into the habit of doing when pressed for answers at work. "I want to spend time with you tonight, here at my place. What do _you_ want to do right now, Bran?"

The desire to be alone with her, to throw her onto a bed and have his way with her was a cruel temptation, and it battled with his sanity."You realize that's a loaded question, right? The look on your face says you know it is... I think."

Confusion flashed in her eyes, but her expression quickly changed to one of awkward surprise. "It is a simple and valid question, not meant to be titillating in any way."

"I'm not so sure I believe that," he replied. Her gaze flew to his mouth. A teasing grin widened into a dazzling smile, then slowly faded as he leaned forward. "Let's go inside and play strip-poker. What do you say?" He braced for a punch that never came. Instead, she laughed aloud, realizing just how ridiculous their exchange had been.

"That was about the dumbest conversation I've ever had. Even so, I'm going to say it once more, just to be clear." She spoke slowly and thoughtfully, without hesitation. "I do want to be alone with you, Bran. I don't know about you, but I'm a snuggler, and I'm not embarrassed to admit it. But it doesn't have to automatically lead to sex." She moved closer to him, laying her hand on his arm. "I want to know everything about you, every little thing, and I wouldn't mind if you held me in your arms all night long just talking." She rested a hand on his cheek, tracing down to the strong line of his jaw. His face was so handsome to her, every look and glance, every smile, and even his frown. "I'm not trying to tease you or play games. I just want to be close to you."

"I know what you mean. Starting a relationship is difficult for anyone." Something shifted in her gaze as she stared at him. Something significant, maybe even… profound? He didn't know if that was the word for it, but alongside the desire in her eyes, there was something else. Bran felt himself being drawn in, like a wave coming to shore. There was a comfort he'd never known in her eyes, in her hand smoothing up and down his arm. "To be honest with you, I'd like to find out if this attraction I feel for you can lead to something more," he said. "Honestly, I think it can. It's not just physical attraction. It's deeper than that. You know it as well as I do."

She couldn't deny the thrill rushing through her, the feelings he stirred in her, the excitement of this unexpected desire. Her eyes stayed glued to his, unable to look away, her body's response to him stronger than ever. "I do feel it, and it scares me a little, but I don't want to fight it."

"Then don't fight it. We'll just look at tonight as a lesson in self-control and take it from there."

"I hope I can resist the temptation."

His brows came up in surprise, eager to test the full measure of her resistance. "It's probably not safe to kiss you then."

"I never said you shouldn't touch me _at all_ ," she whispered, her own breathing erratic.

"And passion cannot always be controlled."

A mischievous smile lit her face. "I expect a full surrender then. In there," she said, motioning toward her home.

He tucked her close again, noticing the sparkle in her eyes. "And I expect you'll give in to my charms sooner than you think." Her mouth opened, and he knew she wanted to make a smart remark, but he didn't give her the chance. He jumped out of the car, ran to the other side, and opened her door. "Come on," he said, taking her hand.

Once inside her condominium, Marian shut the door and trapped him in front of it. Slipping her hand around the back of his neck, her mouth fell open in a half-smile, her eyes on his lips. "Go on then. Kiss me."

And kiss her he did, with all of the passion he'd locked within him for far too many years. His hand roamed over her back, drawing her closer with each breath, his mouth greedy, slanting over hers, and commanding her lips to open. He loved the feel of her lips caressing his, the way she felt wrapped around him. It delighted him and wound around his heart. He was getting in too deep, nearing the point where he could fall in love with her. Knowing her for such a short time and then having the idea of being in love with her loom before him was shocking to say the least, but he wanted more of her, as much as she would give him.

Her lips crushed against his in a kiss that battled for dominance. Now she knew this elaborate dance, and it was breathtaking, robbing her of all thought as she surrendered to the hunger and savored it. When she twined her tongue around his, he let out a low growl and buried his hands in her hair, his heartbeat against hers as he pressed his body against her. Framing her face with his hands, he pressed soft kisses on her eyebrows and lids, trailing them across her cheeks and down to the pulse points thrumming beneath her ears. When the tip of his tongue swirled around one ear, she moaned deep in her throat and carded her fingers through his hair, holding him close, arching her back, pressing ever closer.

But she broke off the kiss, murmuring against his mouth. "Too much…."

With a moan of regret, she strained to be free of his embrace, but still, he held her. He blinked, stunned into silence, before resting his forehead against hers. Looking into her eyes now, they burned hot with desire, and he held her face with his hands as he studied her. "I got a bit carried away just then. I'm sorry," he said, giving her space.

"We both did, so don't apologize." Her eyes were still glazed with arousal, unable to speak above a murmur. "But we should stop now."

"Why?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper.

"Because if we don't stop now, we might not stop at all."

"Would that be such a bad thing?"

She took a breath, her eyes staring into his hypnotic gaze. She saw the brazen desire written there and knew it mirrored her own, and she almost said no. "I think… Yes."

"Again, why?"

"Because one night is never enough."

"You can have this every night, Marian."

"I already did once before." Why was he tempting her this way? He should know better than to be caught up in raw physical attraction. "My last boyfriend was a trooper over at the barracks until he was transferred a few months ago. Emotionally, he was like a teenager. Everything was about sex and macho bullshit... I'm pretty sure he cheated on me too."

He blinked at her. "Marian, I'm not that kind of man."

"I know you're not." She stood looking at him, hands on his shoulders for balance, trying to think of how to explain several months worth of pain in a few sentences. "I want you, Bran, but I can't just yet. I promised I'd never let myself get hurt like that again."

He looked at her as if he were carefully weighing something in his mind, calculating the odds. "So, are you… waiting for marriage?"

"No," she said, averting her eyes. "I just want to feel something more than lust, something more like…." The last thing she wanted to do was scare him off. But the word was there, ready to be said, to be admitted. Was she willing to declare that she needed to fall in love, needed to _be_ loved?

He said it for her. "You want to be in love." He caught her chin gently, and guided it back around so she met his eyes again. "Tell me what you're thinking. What you're really thinking."

Terms of endearment and words of love were what she had craved, but she hadn't gotten any of those from her last relationship. What she'd gotten instead was incredible sex, and then a cold shoulder. It haunted her, hurt her, the self-blame crippling her for weeks. Marian had been a fool once, but never again. "Maybe an example will be more explanatory than my confused thoughts," she said, tears threatening to spill. "If I met you in a club and brought you home just for sex, everybody's happy in the end, and you can just go home, right? Except I would want you to stay and have breakfast with me." She looked away, but not before he saw her lips quiver. "I learned that sex isn't love. Love would have been nice, but sex ruined it."

He knew what she meant, knew how desire can overtake one's mind."You want respect and friendship, passion and commitment... what most of us want in the end. There's nothing wrong with wanting those things."

"I want love, plain and simple," she said truthfully. "I want to find someone I can't live without. Don't you want to fall in love again, make love, _feel_ love?"

"Of course I do. I just don't go chasing after it." Sparks and nervous excitement were overrated commodities in his mind. He could live without them, and he had lived without them, until he'd spent time with Marian. He wanted to ask her more about her last relationship, but left the unspoken words hanging, opting for a different tack. "With Katriela, I loved a woman who was not worth loving. I haven't really given a committed relationship much thought since my divorce." She looked at him as if he were an alien creature. "What?"

"After Will left me, I was a mess. I felt alone and depressed." She waited for a moment, wondering if she should continue. "Don't you ever get lonely?"

"I don't get lonely because I don't allow myself to get lonely," he replied. "I don't become deeply involved with women because I don't let them get that close to me. Besides, it's not like I've led a celibate lifestyle. I've had lovers over the years." He was rambling now, his own voice sounding desperate to him.

"And you want nothing more?"

"Marian, you have to understand that by the time we had Luke, I'd already realized what Katriela was all about. I stayed with her for his sake only, but when he was about eleven, I knew our dysfunctional relationship was more damaging to him than if we had just divorced." His eyes were marked by a sadness she had never seen in him before. "My first clue should have been the night she blurted out some other man's name while we were making love. Well, I was making love. She was just going through the motions."

"Oh, that had to suck," she said, then promptly laid her hand on his arm. "I didn't mean…I'm sorry. I'm not unsympathetic, really I'm not."

His self-imposed barriers were breaking down when it came to talking openly about his first marriage. It was liberating, and once again, Marian was responsible for the sudden uplift of his heart and the need he felt to smile. "Don't worry. It was a long time ago and more than anything, it just makes me angry sometimes, angry at myself for being such a clueless bastard."

"And so there hasn't been anyone you've fallen in love with since?" He shook his head slowly. "Me neither. Sometimes I wonder if that kind of love is a feeling that doesn't exist."

"It does exist, of course it does," he said softly. "For the right people, in the right circumstances… well, it's a natural progression."

"But one should try to avoid falling for jerks. And I should have seen the signs."

"I should have too, but we're only human, Marian. There's a reason someone coined the phrase 'love is blind'."

She had to laugh a little then. He moved closer, gravitating toward her like a moth to a flame. The look in his eyes, the warmth of his voice left her breathless and warm and wanting. Yes, she had it bad. _Maybe he has it bad too. Better change the subject for now._

She glanced around, heading for an open cupboard. Looking inside, she grabbed a package of popcorn and handed it to him. "How about some popcorn? Throw it in the microwave for two minutes."

"I'm fairly competent when it comes to microwave cookery. Single men usually are."

"Right," she said, smiling. "Would you mind if I changed? I feel the need for flannel pajamas."

He laughed. "Go right ahead. And don't forget to pull your tube socks up to your knees."

He watched her flush at his words as she headed for her room, but it didn't stop her from turning around. "You'd better wipe that self-satisfied grin off your face by the time I'm back out."

He was surprised by his own desire as he watched her shimmy away, a sudden ravenous presence invading every part of his body. The nearness of her had only increased his desire to hold her, to taste her, to possess her fully and completely. _What is wrong with me? Just keep it together._ The door of the bedroom slowly opened, and there she was, a vision of flannel beauty.

As she emerged, the aroma of popcorn wafted past her nose and she took a deep, satisfying breath. With her face freshly washed, she was aware of what a ridiculous sight she must make in purple snowflake pajamas, her hair twisted on top of her head. She opted to deflect his attention. "I have something for you."

_Oh shit!_ When she spoke, he remembered the gift he left for her behind the compact discs. He watched her cross the floor, his eyes narrowing as he caught sight of her carefully composed features.

"Here. These are extras I keep around," she said, offering him a pair of cotton pants. "Like this tee shirt?" She held it up for him to see the picture of a fish being measured by a ruler under which read, 'Sorry boys… Size DOES matter'. He laughed as he read the words. "Yeah, Isabela gave that to me. I never wear it in public."

"And neither will I." He took off his suit jacket and began unbuttoning his shirt.

_Please don't strip right here! s_ he thought. "The bathroom is right inside my room!"

"Don't worry, I won't tempt you with my nakedness." Clothes in hand, he disappeared into the bathroom.

Marian headed for the stereo. It only took her a second to find what she was looking for. The soulful sounds of Marvin Gaye floated from the speakers, shattering the uncomfortable silence. As she placed the empty disc holder on top of the others, she spied the gift wrapped in blue paper and tied with a fancy purple ribbon. With a quiet squeal of delight, she practically skipped to her room and sat cross-legged on the bed waiting for him. The door creaked open, and as he stepped into the room, she held out her hand to show him her discovery.

"Ah, you've found it." Bran sat beside her and snuggled up next to her, his face close to her neck as he inhaled her scent and left a kiss there. "I hope you like it."

"You sneak. I bet you thought you wouldn't be here when I found it," she said, turning to face him.

He shrugged, brushing a lock of hair off her face. "Alone with me in your bedroom, hm? No, you're not much of a tease," he whispered with a wink. Eying the box from every angle, she was far too interested in the gift for a comeback. "All right, just open it already."

Marian unwrapped it carefully, so as not to tear the paper. It had been a long time since she received a gift from a man. When she lifted the lid, her mouth dropped open, and she went perfectly still. A braided leather lanyard with spring clips and a shirt clip sat within, meant for her to use when she was fly fishing. Attached to it were a mini fly box, tiny clippers, and a small tube of special gel that kept flies floating higher and longer.

"Do you have something like that already?" He held his breath for a moment.

Marian shook her head slowly as she held it, then gazed at him. "Thank you," was all she said at first.

"I'm thinking a little competition between us might be required when fishing season opens. Are you game?"

She nodded, smiling at him in approval. "Bran, you really shouldn't have. I feel… weird."

His eyes narrowed. "Good weird or bad weird?"

"Good weird," she muttered in a shy whisper.

She didn't move as he rested his hand on her shoulder, his lips curving cynically. "It's not too much, is it? Not too… over the top?"

"No, it's not, it's..." It took some time before she regained emotional balance, and when she did, she managed little more than a gentle sigh. "I'm sorry if I seem ungrateful. I'm feeling quite the opposite actually. This is a very thoughtful and sweet gift."

Smiling at his own nervousness, he almost laughed, running his fingers through his hair a few times. "So, how about that popcorn."

"In a minute." Her arms flew around him, and she clung tight. Then he was undone, as intoxicated by her closeness as a drunkard deep into an endless mug. There was no one in the world but the two of them as they kissed with abandon.

She, too, was lost in his embrace. His tongue was strong, urgent, his hands roaming at will, all over her body. Pleasure spiraled through her, immersed in his embrace, lost in his kiss as his mouth covered hers. His touch unleashed a multitude of needs that had lain dormant inside of her for many long, lonely months. Being in his strong arms, feeling his body pressed against hers was so much better than she'd imagined. With a passionate kiss, gentle and rough, fast and slow, she felt his dominance, his aggression, but at the same time, she felt cherished in his arms, knowing she was safe there.

Finally, he turned her in his embrace and leaned back against the headboard, wrapping his arms around her while pulling her body against him. "I want to learn everything about you, Marian," he murmured, running his fingers over her arms and shoulders. "Just relax."

If his kiss hadn't been so demanding, she would have been able to fight him, and now she had no defense against the rush of emotion his tender touch unleashed. Closing her eyes, she savored his hands on her, and despite his gentle touch, the firmness of his chest and the roughness of his cheek reminded her he was all man. "Ask me anything you want," she breathed.

He watched the sensations swim over her face, the rising color in her cheeks. "Why don't you tell me where to touch you?"

"Umm…." Her head tipped back, and she swallowed hard. "I… well… really?"

"Yes, really." He continued on, barely touching her. "Do you like this?" he whispered, his hand gliding along the long column of her neck, dipping into the hollow of her throat. "Where do you want to be touched?" His fingertips softly traced her collarbone then down the inside of her arm. "How about here?"

She tried to calm her racing heartbeat as she forced herself to go rigid. She was on the verge of succumbing to him, and if she allowed him to see it, he might press her until she surrendered. Or would he? No man had never asked her what she liked before, never seemed to care for her preferences. A nervous giggle escaped her throat. She stared into his eyes and centered on the desire she saw there, her skin prickling with anticipation.

He slid a hand under her shirt, his fingers teasingly close to her breasts. Her eyes remained closed, but when he caressed her, when he squeezed her nipples and kneaded her breast, she inhaled sharply, as if anticipating where he would go next.

His hand grazed her belly, wandering her hips and lingering a moment, then he slipped his fingers beneath the waistband, watching the way her eyes widened, like flowers turning toward the source of their warmth.

"You are so beautiful, Marian." He pressed a kiss to her lips, the touch delicately soft and warm, yet burning with need, but the kiss lasted only a moment. "Let me do this for you, no reciprocation expected." His fingers caressed her face and she allowed herself to go limp in his arms.

"All right," she said, sighing as he kissed her again.

His hand slid past her belly, then down into the part of her that ached for his touch. She couldn't speak as his fingers danced along, lost to the sensations between her thighs.

"Let's get rid of these first," he whispered as he pushed her bottoms toward her feet.

His whisper penetrated the sensual haze that surrounded her and she responded with quiet, inarticulate sounds, moaning in pleasure, half-afraid he'd stop, half-afraid he wouldn't. Her hips had a life of their own as she wriggled upon the bed, and he watched her, his gaze fixed on her expressive face as he dipped first one finger, then two, inside her damp heat.

"How does it feel here?" His thumb circled in a lazy slide. "Or perhaps you like this?" he whispered with a change in pressure.

"Ooh," she gasped aloud, thrusting her hips as he stroked and circled with his thumb. Helpless moans escaped her as his agile fingers quickly drove her toward her peak. He stroked her, over and over, a blissfully perfect moment in time. She lost herself in the pleasure, until at last, his touch tore at her, and she seized his other arm. He kissed her fiercely then, bringing her to a strong and helpless climax, pure pleasure rolling through her, filling every cell in her body.

He held her in arms as her trembling slowly subsided. _Maker's breath_. He'd never seen a woman orgasm so easily, and he found it both gratifying and erotic. Already, he was half-hard, pressing greedily against her thigh, but this was not about his pleasure, only hers.

He dropped a kiss on her forehead. "Feeling satisfied now?" he asked softly.

She turned to face him with a sweet sleepy smile. "Yes, very much so. But it's been a while, and that's why it was… quick."

"You mean it wasn't because of me?"

"Well, yes it was, but… oh, stop teasing me." They laughed together for a moment.

"No need to explain, Marian. I understand." He moved out from under her and threw the blanket across her body. "I'll be right back." Her brows rose and her lips curved into a wicked grin. "Not to do _that_." He shook his head. "To wash up."

She had scarcely laid her head upon the pillow when her eyes began to close, and her breathing grew shallow through half-parted lips. _Maker, I forgot how tiring an orgasm can be._

Emerging from the bathroom, he saw her motionless form on the bed. For a moment, he stood in the doorway and could only stare. _I can't blame her. I'd fall asleep after that too._ Then he went and kissed her cheek, lingering to admire her peaceful repose before he straightened. "Goodnight, Marian. I'll call you tomorrow."

"No, stay," she said softly, looking up at him with heavy-lidded eyes. Her hand reached out for his and he took it. "Please. Promise you'll stay until the morning."

"Okay." He smiled slowly back at her. This was more than enough, for now. "I promise you, Marian, I'm not going anywhere."

Climbing into bed, he curled up next to her, not so close as to be touching, but close enough that she could feel his warmth. They lay there for a while, and then he reached out a tentative hand, brushing the side of her face before putting his arm around her waist and tucking his fingers under her. _I can get used to this_ , he thought with a smile, then gave her a slight "goodnight" squeeze. They sighed in unison, both drifting off into a solid, peaceful sleep.

* * *

Marian awoke with the sun in her eyes, the early-morning rays shining through the window above her bed. When she rolled over to reach for Bran, she expected him to be there. He wasn't, though. The scent of the cologne he favored, a combination of crisp winter air and evergreen woods, clung to her pillow along with the rich scent of his body. She clenched her fists, wishing she could hit him, beat him senseless.

"He promised he'd stay," she whispered. The sting of tears came unbidden as she punched the bed. "Asshole!"

"You called?" came Bran's voice from the doorway. He turned his smug grin her way.

Cheeks burning, she sunk back into the pillows, draping one across her face with a groan. She heard him chuckle as he sat down on the bed.

Pulling the pillow from her face, he braced his hands on either side of her head to stare down into her eyes. "And now you've learned that I'm a man of my word," he murmured in her ear, quite pleased with himself. He kissed the tip of her nose, then sat up and reached for a tray full of fruit and bread, some already buttered or spread with jam. "As you can see, I've been rather busy."

"I'm sorry I jumped to conclusions, Bran. I should never have doubted you," she replied grinning from ear to ear. She propped herself up, her soft, apologetic eyes gazing at him. "You know, I haven't had breakfast in bed in ages."

"I'm happy to oblige then." He fed her a strawberry, her lips curving in delight around his fingers.

"Good?"

"Hmm hmmm," she said, her lips wrapped around the fruit.

"So here's what I'm thinking," he said, feeding her another strawberry and a bite of toast. "After breakfast, we head to my house so I can shower and change, and then we spend the day doing whatever we want."

"Sounds good to me," she replied. "Do you have plans for First Day tomorrow?" He shook his head, a quizzical expression on his face. "Would you like to come with me to my mother's? I mean I know it's not the most exciting thing, but it would be better than being alone, right? We'd only have to stay through dinner, I figure."

"So you're introducing me to your mother already?" Teasing her was too much fun. He couldn't pass up the opportunity.

She made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort. "My mother will love you. You're almost of the same generation."

"Ah, I knew it was just a matter of time before the age jokes came out."

"I'm only kidding, Bran. She has more than a few years on you." Marian launched from the bed and grabbed some clean clothes. "I'll shower and then we can go." She took his hand and held it to her heart as she gazed down at him. "Thank you for breakfast."

"You're welcome, but you don't have to thank me for anything ever again," he said, his thumb making lazy circles on her palm. "I've never done a thing I didn't want to do."

Before melting into a dithering love-struck puddle, she headed for the bathroom. "I'm going to... just go… shower," she mumbled.

Bran sat there and thought of last night, smiling at how they fell asleep in each other's arms without even making love. That was a first for him. His brain felt as if it had rewired. The depths of his feelings for her had grown in such a short time; surely, it must mean something more. He wanted to care for her, to be her guardian, to make and keep the promises she deserved. He couldn't afford to make the same mistake with Marian that he'd made with Katriela, but he had to find out if Marian was the one he could love with all the passion he kept at bay, and then some.

_Whatever it takes, I'll know it when I feel it, and she will too._


	5. The Ex- Factor

A darkening sky loomed overhead, the weather turning stormy as Bran headed for his home at the top of Maple Hill Road. Marian had been unusually silent during the ride to his place, except for humming a bit during one song. He reached for her hand, lifted it to his lips, and kissed it. When she looked at him, he thought he saw a hint of sadness pass over her face before she evaded his gaze.

"You're quiet," he said. "Is something wrong?"

"I was just thinking about how long it's been since I've been on this road. Have you always lived up here?"

He shook his head. "We moved here when Luke was four. It wasn't my idea at the time, but I've grown to love it. It was a good neighborhood for him to grow up in, lots of kids his age. Do you know someone else who lives up here?"

"I did when I was a little girl, but the family moved away long before you were here." She looked away, and he got the impression she didn't want to talk about it any further. "So, does your son come home every once in a while?"

"For all the regular college breaks."

"Oh, but he didn't come home for the long weekend?"

"Not this time," he said with a note of wistfulness in his voice. "Luke was planning to go on a road trip with his friends for the weekend."

"Ah yes, I remember those carefree days," said Marian. "Do you see much of him when he's home, or does he stay with his mother?"

"Actually, he prefers to stay with me. It seems the old man is a bit more lenient when it comes to his late nights with friends."

"Oh, I'm sure it's more than that, Bran. You said you were close, and besides, you're an excellent role model and he looks up to you."

Bran just nodded, but she could tell by the way his cheeks reddened slightly that he was pleased she thought so. "All the same," he said, "there are times when I don't know if I'm doing the right thing or not."

"Join the club," she said, resting her hand on his arm despite the center console. "I can tell you're a wonderful father, and I suspect you were an equally wonderful husband. Katriela was a fool." _Shit. Why did I say that? Maybe we should talk about her though, get it over with._ "Was she a good mother?" Surely, she had one redeeming quality, Marian thought.

"She spoiled him rotten, a prime example of maternal excess. But even at the lowest point of our marriage, she never allowed Luke to see how she really felt about me. " A slight crease appeared between his brows. "Luke sees her clearly now though. He knows she was a good mother, but a lousy wife."

Bran seemed willing enough to talk about Katriela, and they were going to have to discuss her at length eventually, so Marian dove in head first, wanting the conversation to begin and end as quickly as possible. "Did you meet Katriela in college?"

"No. She was a dancer with a traveling ensemble originating in Orlais. They came through Kirkwall to perform for a few nights one summer, and a mutual friend introduced us. She was an exceptionally talented dancer, the best I had ever seen." He glanced at her. "It doesn't bother me to talk about her, as long as _you_ are okay with it."

"I am." Surprised that he'd read her so well, she continued. "So the sparks flew, huh?"

"You could say that. It was a whirlwind romance, and we married after only a couple months. I was fresh out of college and had just taken over the print shop from my dad. I was busy, and it didn't matter that she continued to travel several days out of the week. It seemed to work for us. At the time, I didn't realize the extent of her obsessive behavior. When she wanted something, nothing stood in her way."

"Like you?"

"Maybe, although to be fair, I wanted her as much as she seemed to want me."

That stung Marian, resentment mingling with apprehension and... envy?

"Our domestic bliss didn't last long. Barely a year. By the time we divorced, she had spread lies about me to turn people against me so she could get full custody. The lies I could handle, but people who knew me _believed_ they were true… Some still do. I bet you did as well."

"I didn't know you well enough to believe one way or the other. I do remember thinking that was a horrible thing to do to the father of your child, lies or not."

She waited for him to say more, but he stayed quiet, his expression a little mysterious. Her brows drew closer, her pinched mouth evidence of her building anxiety as her toe tapped on the floor of the car.

Bran remained silent. The road narrowed as he drove uphill toward his house sitting at the very peak. He glanced at her as he parked the car. "I know what you're thinking," he said at last.

"I'm not judging you," she said quickly. Too quickly. He saw her swallow hard, and finally she turned to face him. "I've got my own lousy track record, you know."

"How will you be sure of me if you don't judge my past actions, right? And I'm not faulting you for that either. Just be upfront with me."

She nodded. "Honestly, it's not that I'm judging you, it's more that I'm… hating her. Hating how she treated you. Hating that you loved her and got nothing in return but years of aggravation."

Bran looked uneasy then, as if he had said too much. "Those are strong feelings for a woman you don't know."

"She used you, Bran, and you probably knew it all the time. I think it affected you so deeply that you couldn't bear to let any woman come close to you again."

Right then, he decided that he had not said a word too much. The muscles of his neck tensed and then slackened, unexpected regret ebbing away. He waited for her reaction and when there was none, he looked away, staring off into the distance, and continued.

"I didn't love her the way I should have, though I thought I did. I _wanted_ to love her. But—" He stopped, his eyes churning with the same dark intensity as the clouds curling in the sky. His ex-wife had always been a lonely woman. Smart, controlled, capable, but isolated within herself. Not the type to be overly outgoing, Katriela always forced herself to make friends. She was the opposite of him in many ways. "Maker knows I _tried_ , but it didn't take long for my infatuation to wear off, right about the same time she sought other men. Then there was nothing there. Nothing at all, not even after Luke was born."

"I always thought a child could help a marriage in trouble."

"Things were better for a time, but it didn't last. She resented me. Deep down, she wanted to be a prestigious dancer, and everyone said she was headed in that direction, but the surprise of her pregnancy put an end to that dream. Then she blamed me for everything." He went on, sharing the details of his failed marriage without shame or embarrassment.

"After a while, being angry with me was like food to her. She lived on it. She blamed me for everything from the weather to her career crashing to her inability to make a perfect roast. She's nothing more than a greedy little bitch who played me for a fool. You know the first thing she did when our divorce was settled?" He laughed somberly. "She got get a tummy tuck and a brow-lift, like a pampered, snobbish socialite."

"What? How old was she? She couldn't have been more than thirty-five or so."

"Thirty-four," he said in a quiet voice. "Anyway, that's enough about her." He yanked the keys from the ignition. "Let's go inside and talk about _our_ plans for the day."

She nodded, but upon entering his house, felt the need to add one more thing. She trapped him against the wall. "Thank you for sharing your past with me, for trusting me."

"Thank you for listening." Watching her closely, his expression softened. The glow on her face and the brightness in her eyes chased away the ghosts of his memories. "You're a special woman, Marian. I think I can make you happy. I think _we_ can be happy together."

 _Maker's breath, this is like a dream_. "You don't really know me yet," she protested softly, needing to remind herself of that fact more than him.

"I think I know you pretty well," he said. "You are loyal, generous to your friends, you have a strong moral and ethical sense," he paused, catching her hand in his, "and you're wary of me because you're afraid of rejection. You want love and yet you fear it too." He looked at her face for a moment before he kissed her lips. When they came apart, he thought he'd never seen such a thing of beauty, her gaze so intense and alluring, so unguarded. "I like what's happening between us," he admitted. "But I want to make sure you're feeling the same as I am. I learned a long time ago that when a couple doesn't talk, things get tangled very fast."

She smiled. "A couple? Is that what we are already? We haven't even had sex."

He smiled at her. "Well, that's easily remedied."

"Come on, Bran, I mean that you don't even know if we're compatible that way."

"Yes, I do. And we are." He laughed, but his smile turned tender, devoid of its usual cheeky slant. He pressed a finger to her lips. "I don't want to hear any protests from you, but I'd say we're on the way to becoming a couple."

"A couple of idiots," she mumbled before he took his finger away from her lips.

He gently kissed her, then slowly retreated. "I know you don't mean that."

"No, I don't." She sighed then, putting her arms around him, and she looked into his eyes. "Do you know how you make me feel?" she asked him softly.

"No." He smiled as he stole another kiss. "Tell me."

"I've always felt like there was something wrong with me, like I was too boring and reserved, that I wasn't… woman enough for any man."

"And do you still feel this way?"

"No." Ignoring any lingering shyness, she reached out with both hands, palms to each side of his face. "I know it's corny, but you make me feel nervous and giddy. Since the other day at your shop I've acted like some… some stupid smitten teenager."

He looked at her lips, then he moved his gaze back to her eyes by sheer strength of will. "And what else," he whispered.

"You make me feel sexy and treasured. No man has ever made me feel like you do, and certainly not in such a short time. You've discovered a part of me that no other guy even took the time to find."

"See? _Well_ on our way to couplehood." Then he kissed her with seductive thoroughness.

It was useless to fight him, and anyway, she had no desire to. **"** You're so confident about us."

"You can be too. I've been through enough to know my own mind… and my own heart," he replied as if that were all there was to say.

Surrendering to the thrill she felt at his words, she sank into the comfort of his embrace. A reassuring silence wrapped around them, filled with unspoken meaning.

"Now," he said, "let's make the most of our time together." He succeeded in prying her loose and took her hand in his, leading her on a brief tour of his home.

The house was utterly beautiful, a mini-mansion. Each piece of furniture looked new and expensive, the rooms free of clutter and dust, almost as if no one inhabited the home.

He led her up the stairs, never releasing his tight grip on her hand, and then down a long hallway to his room. It was a luxurious master bedroom decorated in shades of cranberry and navy blue. The room had large windows on three sides, and when she walked over to a side window, the view was breathtaking.

"You can see downtown!" she squealed. "What an incredible view!"

He approached her from behind, slipping his arms around her waist. "Not nearly as beautiful as the view I have." She turned to him, and he kissed her soundly on the mouth, then grinned wickedly. "Care to join me in the shower? Or we could make good use of the bed first."

Her cheeks grew hot. _Damn it._ He was taunting her and looked rather amused by it, too.

When she shook her head, he slanted an eyebrow in silent mockery. "That's a shame." Without a further word, he slid down the zipper of his suit pants and discarded them, tossing them onto a chair. He stood there in his boxer briefs, staring at her. "Last chance."

She made an effort not to ogle, but failed miserably, fighting hard to remain unflustered. "Do you have a whirlpool bath in there?"

"Yes," he said, drawing out the word expectantly. "And it's very big," he added with a wiggle of his brows.

She giggled. "I'm sure it is. Maybe you can show it to me later tonight."

Instantly his blood ran hot, as though fire raced through his veins. "You really are a tease, aren't you?" He gave her a long silent look.

She bit her lip, suppressing a laugh. "For now, I'll just go downstairs and… look at your books… or something." Grabbing some clean clothes, he walked toward the bathroom, and she couldn't resist slapping him on the backside.

With an incoherent growl, he spun around and pinned her to the wall. His head bent, but instead of forcing a kiss on her lips, he put his mouth to her ear. "When we make love, there will be nothing between us. No clothes. No fear. Only bliss." He kissed her passionately then, and when he released her, she swayed from the desire gripping her. She leaned against the wall to recompose herself and watched as he disappeared into the bathroom.

His kiss left her breathless, filled with a burning need to feel him, an overpowering ache of suppressed desire. She quickly left his room before she made a fool of herself by ambushing him in the shower.

The familiar aroma of coffee wafted up the stairway as she descended. _He must have it brew on a timer_ , she thought. She pranced down the stairs following the scent and stopped at large bookshelf on the first landing. A photo album mixed in with some large books on the shelf caught her eye. She picked it up and flipped through the pages. Most of the photos were of Bran's son, meaningful events over the years: first steps, baseball games, proms, typical photographs any parent would cherish.

A few included Katriela and Marian assumed they were pictures Bran could not bend or mar in any way without seeming cold and insensitive. His ex-wife was indeed a beautiful woman, lithe and graceful. Marian felt a pang of jealousy at seeing Bran with another woman, but there was no sparkle in his eyes in these photographs, no love in his regard for her. _Maker, I hate her_. She slipped the album back and headed downstairs.

When Marian rounded the corner to the kitchen, she stopped dead in her tracks. There stood Katriela, her son smiling knowingly at her side. For a long moment, no one moved. Marian didn't realize that she'd been holding her breath until her lungs started to burn.

"You must be Bran's latest conquest," Katriela said finally. She ran her eyes over Marian's outfit of jeans and a tee shirt critically. "How… charitable of him."

Marian's face flushed, then turned pale. "Yes, Bran and I are seeing each other, and that was a rude-"

"Do I know you?" she purred, not giving her a chance to finish. A look of disdain spread across her wide, painted mouth. "You seem familiar."

Marian flinched. His ex-wife was a great many things, but slow on the uptake didn't seem to be one of them. "I am Marian Hawke."

"Ah yes, I know your mother. She's has an incredible green thumb as I recall, president of the Kirkwall Gardening Club." There was no mistaking that it was meant to be a condescending remark.

Marian took offense immediately and opened her mouth to speak, but Bran's son stepped forward and gave his mother a stern look. He held his hand out to Marian. "Nice to meet you. I'm Luke."

 _Stay calm…._ "Your father has told me how brilliant you are, pre-med and on the Dean's list every semester. He's very proud of you." _Stop babbling!_

Luke smiled. "Good to know." He grabbed his bags, disappearing into the living room with a warning for his mother. "Behave yourself, Mom!"

Katriela snorted. "So, Marian, I imagine you're quite taken with my ex-husband." Her eyes narrowed slightly, and the line of her mouth tightened.

Marian's eyes blinked in rapid succession. "Why would you presume that?"

"Well, he's rich, attractive, and he's a great fuck, although he is a hopeless womanizer. You were probably the last woman in Kirkwall he hadn't slept with. I bet you've christened every room in the house by now."

"That is none of your business! How dare you pry into his private life after you-" She cut herself off, closing her mouth.

"After I what?" she asked, moving closer to Marian. "I think you mean after _he_ found it too difficult to remain faithful during our marriage." Katriela poured a cup of coffee for herself, adding cream and sugar, the malicious smirk on her lips reaching her eyes. "Of course he came to me when the pickings were slim. Did he tell you how we had sex on the roof of this very house after Luke's high school graduation party? That was quite a night!"

 _Graduation? But that was only two years ago._ Marian's head was spinning now. Was Katriela lying? Was she jealous? Either Katriela was a very ridiculous woman or Bran hadn't revealed all his bad habits yet. Of course he had some—everyone did—but they'd have to be pretty horrible to offset his good points, right? Was sleeping with his ex-wife so horrible?

Katriela watched as Marian's face fell, a cruel smile twisting her perfect lips. She stepped closer to Marian and whispered with a pointed glare. "He'll never settle down in any kind of permanent relationship again. You'd best not fall for him too hard."

 _Who is she trying to convince here_ _?_ After swallowing hard, Marian steeled herself and said, "You almost sound jealous."

Katriela looked out of the window, avoiding eye contact. "Hardly," she scoffed. "I'm just looking out for your interests," she snapped, just to irritate Marian further. With those words, however, the air charged between them.

The urge to punch Katriela was overwhelming and Marian took a deep breath, about to leave the kitchen when she heard the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs.

"Have you come up with a plan for us to… day?" His voice broke on the words as he realized they were not alone. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"Darling!" Katriela exclaimed, drawing closer to him.

Judging by the look on Marian's face **,** he was sure he'd arrived the nick of time. Bran's face then turned an alarming shade of red, and he shifted on his feet.

Katriela stilled, complacency registering on her face. "It's good to see you too, Bran. Luke's plans changed and he's home for a visit. He's putting his things away as we speak. Now we can spend First Day as a family," she sang, smiling at Marian with false sweetness.

Marian's heart dropped to the floor. She knew she had to get out of the house before she lost whatever emotional stability she had left. She couldn't lose it, not now; not in front of him, or her. "I'm...I'm sorry," she stammered looking at Bran. "I don't want to intrude. Why don't you take me home, Bran?"

"You don't have to leave just yet. We can have lunch together, with Luke. You can get to know him," he said quickly, grasping Marian's hand.

"Yes," said Katriela, a smug grin on her lips. "No need to leave on my account."

Bran shot Katriela a glare of such power that it staggered her back a step. "This is _my_ home, Kat. You are not supposed to be here, and you know it."

Despite his obvious anger, he stayed collected while Marian's stomach churned. "Like I said, I don't want to intrude on your time with Luke."

"Hey, Dad!" Luke came into the kitchen and at first Bran gaze didn't leave Marian's face. "Dad?"

"How's it going, Luke?" He hugged his son, then held him back and looked at him. "It's good to see you."

Marian wrung her hands, looking anxiously from Bran to Luke to Katriela, and then back again. Feeling awkward, she moved toward the front door. "I'll just… wait outside."

"I'll be right back, Luke. I have to drive Marian home, and then we can have lunch or something, all right?"

"Sure, Dad. Sorry we interrupted your… date or whatever."

"It's fine. Nothing that can't be postponed." Bran clapped Luke on the shoulder with a wide smile. "I'm glad you're home." He grabbed his keys, and as he passed by Katriela, took her by the arm and pulled her to the door. He spoke low, a hint of warning in his tone. "I expect you to be gone by the time I get back. Understood?" She nodded, but something about her expression sent a chill up his spine. "What did you say to her, Kat? What lies did you tell Marian?"

Katriela gave him a wide-eyed look. "I just gave her some sage advice, one woman to another."

"You _bitch_. If Luke wasn't here…." His voice was perfectly articulated and laced with menace. "Do not interfere in my life _ever again_."

"Or what?" Her question brought him up short. Or was it her lack of fear that made his anger diminish?

"You're treading on dangerous ground," he said evenly. "You will do well to remember that."

The woman had no heart, no conscience. Her mocking laughter rang in his ears as he headed for the car where Marian sat, waiting for him.

Waiting, Marian thought, was about all she would be up to now. After all the emotions of the morning, she felt totally spent, and the day had barely begun.

"Are you all right?" he asked as he started the car, concern evident in his voice.

Marian shrugged. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry our plans had to change," he said, squeezing her hand briefly. "I had no idea they were going to show up."

"I know." Her eyes glazed over, a faraway look on her face as she stared straight ahead.

"She's so callous now." Bran sighed and backed out of the driveway. "What did she say that upset you?"

"She loved you, you know, and she wanted your marriage to work because she didn't want to be a failure. I saw it in her eyes when she spoke of you."

"The man she loved was… some romantic idea of me. Maybe she still sees that ideal in me, but that man never existed." He looked away, out the window, then back at Marian. "What did she say about me?"

"Nothing I care to repeat right now."

"Please tell me, Marian. What did she say?" he persisted. "I'm sure she didn't say anything good."

Marian's anger erupted then. "Is it true?" she said, her voice cracking. "Is it true that you had sex with her on the roof? I mean it sounds so crazy… the roof, of all places!"

He wanted them to be truthful with each other, and now the truth would hurt her, possibly scare her off. "It was only the one time, Marian. We were celebrating and I was drinking, and I know that's no excuse, but it was a mistake."

"You don't need to explain. I just wanted to know if she was lying to me."

Leaning to the side, he touched her arm. "Is that all?"

"No," she sighed, her breath catching in her throat as she met his gaze "You know it isn't, but I can't talk about it now." He pulled up to her walkway. Instinctively, he bent to kiss her cheek, but she jerked away from him. "We'll talk about it later."

"It meant nothing. _She_ means nothing to me. She's Luke's mother, and that's all. I hope you believe that."

Marian unfastened her seat belt and opened the door. "I believe you, Bran. I'm just… I just need to process a few things. Thanks for the ride."

"No problem." Her upset overwhelmed him and he wanted to keep her talking but she was already on the curb.

"Bye."

"One more thing, Marian." She glanced back over her shoulder. "We're still on for tomorrow, right? I'll arrange my day so it works."

She hesitated. "Of course," she murmured, suddenly feeling ridiculously shy.

"I'll call you later."

Marian nodded and turned to walk to her door. A feeling of frustration suddenly covered her like a blanket. She could feel his gaze on her, but she couldn't look back at him. She could only stare straight ahead, bracing against the pain that might come if she didn't armor herself against it.

The door closed and she was gone, too fast. He shook his head in disbelief. "A couple hours ago we were fine and now…." Sitting there alone, he vowed to find a way to make everything work. He wouldn't hurt Marian, or his son, but there had to be a middle ground. Somewhere.

* * *

Trying to busy herself around the house, Marian attempted to repress the desire to call Bran. Cleaning, she conceded, is a sorry excuse for him, for intimacy. Perhaps exercise would tire her enough to just go to bed and sleep away her worries. From the bottom of a stack of discs, she pulled out the jazziest exercise disc she owned. Forty minutes of a workout regimen later, she felt energized, but still anxious.

She threw herself on the couch to watch the minutes change on her cell phone. "What am I so upset for?" she chided herself. "It's not like we were dating when he slept with her. But is it a telling sign of things to come?"

Tossing her cell phone on the coffee table, it chimed as it touched down. "Ugh, I don't want to talk." She waited for it to stop, but the vibration against the table demanded she glance at the screen. _Text from Bran_ , it read.

"Couldn't he have just called? Shit." She tapped the screen to view the new message and her stomach tightened.

_Hi. What are you doing?_

She groaned, "Pining for you, apparently," then typed her response.

_Nothing._

_Are you mad at me?_

_No._

_Do you want to talk?_

_Maybe._

_You are mad. One-word answers are a dead giveaway. I'll call you then._

_OK_

_First, go to your front door. There's something there for you._

_You don't need to give me anything._

_I'm not. Just do it. I'll call back in five minutes._

"Oh, for the love of…."

 _Fine_.

Mumbling the entire way, she twisted the doorknob and pulled the door open. With a bottle of wine in his hand, Bran stood there smiling. "I didn't think this was something we should discuss over the phone," he told her.

Her heart raced when his lips pressed against hers, leaving her lips soft and warm. With a contented sigh, she buried her face in the hollow between his shoulder and neck. "I know I seemed… crazy this morning."

"Actually, I'm flattered that you would question my actions when it comes to Katriela. But I assure you, it was simply a moment of weakness. I know it's no excuse," he affirmed. "Believe me when I say I berate myself almost daily for it."

She smiled at him, but her smile wasn't nearly as bright as usual. "Come on in." She procured two wine glasses and handed him a corkscrew. "She still loves you, Bran."

""Loves me'? I thought we covered this earlier." He snorted and took a sip of wine. "She's spiteful, and she just wants to see me squirm."

"That may be part of it, but love and jealousy make people do things like that. She wants you back. I can tell by looking at her."

He shook his head and laughed. "No. I'm done with her and she knows it."

"Well, she's not done with you," Marian insisted "She hasn't remarried."

"Neither have I." He suddenly realized he'd been led into a trap. "Stop looking at me like that, Marian. I haven't remarried because I haven't been able to trust another woman nor have I found a woman I'd want to share my life with." He noticed the slight smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Is something funny?"

"It's just hard for me to believe any of this. According to Katriela, you're a womanizer and you'll never settle down again. She said you've been with every unattached woman in Kirkwall." Marian tried to sound merely curious, like someone seeking the answer to an unimportant question.

"Wrong, Marian. I haven't been with you." He moved closer until they were only inches apart.

"I don't intend to be just another one of your _conquests_ , as she put it."

"You won't be. Contrary to what you've heard, you are the first woman I've invited to my home since my marriage ended."

"But… there _were_ many other-"

He placed a finger on her lips for a second time that day, stopping her words. His mouth replaced his finger, and her lips parted under his soft kiss. The caress of his lips on hers drew her into the heated affection she so loved when he was near.

He pulled away, his gaze locked on hers. "The _first_ , Marian. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, you have, Bran." She wanted to ask why he hadn't brought other women home, why he seemed to indicate his bedroom was some sort of restricted sanctuary. But there would be time for questions later.

He returned her smile. "Would you like some wine?" She nodded, and he poured. "What is the definition of womanizer anyway?"

"Let me look it up. " She plugged the word into her cell phone and searched. A faint smile crossed her lips. "A man who likes many women and has short sexual relationships with them."

"Hm. I suppose that _was_ an accurate assessment of me... before you came along."

Her eyes fell to her hands clutched in front of her, not daring to allow herself to think about where this moment was leading, wanting and rejecting it at the same time. "Bran... what are saying?" she hesitantly asked as her expression changed to one of contained surprise.

"What I'm saying is, I want you all to myself. And if you'll have me, I will be yours."

Shock stole her breath and short-circuited her brain. "You what?"

"For a smart woman, you can be very dense sometimes," he chided softly. "I'm falling for you, Marian," he said, placing his hand against her cheek. "I don't know how it happened or why exactly, but I am."

Her gaze never wavered. It had to be a crush, or lust. Infatuation, yes, that's it! "But… isn't it too soon?"

The question was valid, but he heard disbelief at her own words in her voice. She only asked out some preconceived notion of what falling in love was all about.

"I won't promise you something unrealistic to keep you, but you're constantly in my thoughts, and I can't imagine never seeing you again. My skin… _tingles_ if I think about your touch. I _know_ what I'm feeling."

She knew it was true. Just as well as she knew that she was falling for him, too. She traced a line with her finger across his bottom lip. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. I've never felt this way before. Not even with Katriela."

"We barely know each other, although… in reality, we've known each other for years." She blinked at him with confusion, her mind trying to wrap itself around the thought as well as the feeling behind his words. "We should take it slow. If we're meant to be together, then it will happen."

"As long as we're on the same page here, we'll go at a snail's pace if you want. Does that sound good?"

"Yeah, and I think," she said, in a small shy voice, "I think I'm falling for you, too." She wrapped her arms around his neck, looking into his eyes, hesitant, afraid, her heart pounding. "I think you see me more clearly than any man I've ever been with, and it's scaring the shit out of me."

He laughed and she threw herself on top of him, pressing her mouth against his neck to kiss it.

"We'll be scared together, then," he whispered, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that held a promise they both understood. "Now how about that shower?"

She managed a shaky smile and nodded with a blush. "It's not very big."

"Contrary to your tee shirt, it's _not_ the size that matters. It's how you use it." His smile turned devilish, his eyes now lighting with desire. "I might even be persuaded to tuck you in and tell you a bedtime story." He gave her a mischievous wink.

She stood up to make her way to the bathroom, then paused and looked at him again. "You'd better hurry, Bran, because I can take a fast shower."

With a single bound, he leapt from the couch and dashed after her, untamed desire coursing through his veins as he stripped off his clothes. The bathroom was steamy and smelled of lavender when he walked in, the mirror fogged over. In a moment of silliness, he ran a finger across the mirror and actually contemplated writing… something, but Marian pulled back the shower curtain and peeked out. Her eyes met his as she beckoned him with a finger.

"Did I mention that one of my favorite fantasies is taking a shower with you?" he asked.

"No," she answered just as he pulled the curtain over.

"Maker's breath," he whispered, stepping into the shower. He found her with her back to him, and gently turned her to face him. "You are beautiful, Marian." He put his arms around her naked, soapy body and pulled her to him, brushing his lips against her ear. With a step back, his eyes followed the trail of the water down her body and back up again. "Beautiful and slippery."

She blushed at his praise, self-conscious of her nakedness, and she lifted her hands to cover herself.

He caught her wrists and shook his head. "I want to look at you. I _like_ looking at you."

Marian drew in a ragged breath. "I like looking at you, too," she said daringly.

He smiled. "Good. That makes me happy," he murmured as he looked fiercely into her eyes. Then he kissed her hard on the mouth letting his lips linger over hers before he pulled back. "I want to put my hands on you, Marian. I want to pleasure you until you beg me to take you."

She gasped, the heat from his words sizzling through her body as if he'd actually done the thing he'd described. She threaded her fingers in his hair as he trailed his fingertip from one breast to the other, a soft moan escaping her when he flicked her and squeezed. His roving hand moved down to her legs, then up her thigh, where her skin ignited into searing, exciting heat.

With her eyes closed, a heated tingling sped through her, and she moaned as his fingers moved in delicate circles. Moments later, she felt his lips capture a hardened nipple and a cry of pleasure escaped her lips. Instinctively, she arched against him.

"Tell me if you want me to stop."

"No, please." Her voice, tinged with need, held a pleading note.

His hands never ceased caressing, exploring, bringing her to the brink of ecstasy with urgent strokes, light and soft. When he drove a finger into her, she lost all sense of reason. He held her tight, kissing her as the wet heat brought her to an explosive climax, even more powerful than the first time.

A potent mix of feelings swept through her then, an emotional current there was no fighting. She buried her face in his shoulder and felt the rapid pounding of his heart. "That was incredible," she said huskily. "But now I think it's my turn to explore you." His eyes were alight with a warmth and affection that clutched at her heart.

He lifted her hand and placed it against his chest. "If you want to, and you're comfortable with it, go right ahead."

She smoothed her fingers over his broad shoulders, across his firm chest, then bent over to run her tongue across a nipple, gently scraping it with her teeth. She brushed a finger across his other nipple, circling it gently, experimenting with a tweak that caused him to intake a sharp breath. Reaching down to stroke him, she found he was more than happy with her hands on him.

Marian gazed at him and he smiled, staring deep into each other's eyes as they shared a moment of intimate and sensual accord. What the night would bring was beyond his or her guess. They had each other, and neither was about to waste any more time worrying about uncertainties.


	6. You Can Choose Your Friends…

Basking in the afterglow of a long, sensuous shower, Marian moved closer to Bran, snuggling in his arms on the couch. Their time together was measured by slow, sweet kisses, intimate laughter, and the slippery exploration of each other's bodies, discovering where a touch would make the other shiver with pleasure.

She raised her face to Bran's for a kiss. His lips closed on hers with such tenderness it stirred a twinge of need she was hard-pressed to fight back. She slid her arms around his neck and clung to the moment, but the kiss was over too soon.

"It's almost midnight," he said. "If I don't leave now, I'll get in later than my son, and we both have busy days tomorrow."

A shudder rippled through her when she pictured Bran having brunch with his beautiful ex-wife, an ex-wife Marian knew had some sort of intentions where Bran was concerned. "Please, just a few minutes more, Bran. I want a _real_ kiss, and I'm not moving until I get it." She made a futile effort with her knee, hoping she might connect with a vulnerable part of him, but he was way ahead of her.

With quick precision, he grabbed her wrists and pinned her to the couch, shaking his head. "Two can play at that game."

He kissed her neck and then turned her head toward his and kissed her cheek. The warmth of his breath on her neck and ear, the caress of his lips to her face were utterly euphoric sensations. He toyed with her for long moments, his tongue swirling around her ear, his lips hot on her cheek, his chaste kisses driving her mad with the desire to feel them pressed firmly against hers, to taste him again.

When he released her, his hand curved along her cheek, his palm stroking her skin with the flames she saw in his eyes. Through her thin nightclothes, she felt his hard, muscular lines, and his growing desire for her. Breathless, she struggled to appear calm and unruffled, but it was almost impossible to keep still. Finally, feeling anxious and needy, she threaded her fingers in his hair and pulled him to her mouth. "I love when you kiss me. I think... I'm beginning to love everything you do to me, everything about you."

With just that one honest admission, she had weakened him. "I can say the same." He felt something thump again, something near his heart; something he could have sworn had hardened over time.

She stroked his cheek gently, brushing her lips against his face, until with a small, half-suppressed groan of yearning, his lips found hers. His chest pressed against hers, his mouth insistent on her parted lips, a rough sigh of his breath warm as he kissed her hungrily, without restraint.

He should go. He really should. But she was so warm, so inviting. Surely a few minutes more wouldn't hurt. Then he'd head home, let her get some sleep. _Right_. How had she softened him so quickly? She made him believe it was all right to rely on another person, to trust, to not hold himself in a constant state of wariness. And he couldn't remember the last time a woman had him in an almost constant state of arousal.

"It seems to me," he said with a smile of supreme confidence, "that if kissing you is this good, when we make love it will be downright decadent. Then nothing will stop me from giving you so much pleasure that we both collapse from fatigue."

His exaggeratedly arrogant tone made her laugh, although a bit nervously. "I genuinely do appreciate your understanding. I don't want to set a time table or a date, but I _do_ want you, right now. I want you more than I have ever wanted a man before, but I feel waiting is the right thing to do." She looked at him, and he returned her gaze, quietly and thoughtfully. "I'm not sure I'll be able to hold out until… well, whenever that is," she whispered with a blushing giggle, "but just not yet, okay?"

What had begun as curiosity, simple physical attraction, and, he admitted to himself, an interest in a woman he hadn't yet slept with, had shifted into something so foreign to what he usually felt for a lover that she had utterly disarmed him. It was not quite frightening, but feeling as he did for a woman he hadn't even had sex with yet was baffling. Nothing touched him the way she managed to. He took gentle hold of her hand, giving her a charming smile. "Don't worry, I'm not going to find someone else just for sex." He grinned. "Unless you'd be interested in a threesome."

His attempt at levity fell flat, but she smiled at him for making the effort. "The truth is, being with you tonight has been so wonderful, Bran." She settled her head against his chest. "I could have stayed in the shower with you until tomorrow."

"And miss your mother's dinner celebration?"

"Maker, yes. I have no interest in hearing her opinion of…." She looked into his eyes, then bowed her head. "I haven't told her it's you who I'm seeing," she whispered, a little too shyly for his liking. Then she straightened up and said, "I just told her I'm bringing a _male friend_. She won't approve of you, but I'll set her straight."

In spite of her attempt to appear stress-free, he watched her closely. "And so what? Do you need her approval?"

"No, but she…ach, fair warning, my mother doesn't approve of _anything_ I do."

"She has never liked any of your boyfriends then?"

"Only one. Sebastian."

"And I take it he and I are quite opposite?"

"Like night and day. Birth and death. Right and… wrong. He was so wrong for me. The chemistry just wasn't there."

He sat there, crossed his arms, and put his hand up to his chin, a pose that was natural for him, the move so quick and smooth. "Thank the Maker for chemistry, or lack of it."

"Yeah." She smiled, trying to guess how he truly felt, but his expression didn't give anything away as he remained infuriatingly silent. "I'm telling you this because I don't want any secrets between us. I want to be honest with you right from the start if we are going to keep on seeing each other."

"Do you mind if I ask why it didn't work out? If it's too personal, you don't have to tell me, of course."

She shook her head in confusion but hesitated only a moment. "After tonight, I think there is no question of what is and is not personal. _Nothing_ is too personal now, don't you think?"

"So you want nothing to be off-limits? That's fine with me," he said cheerfully. "I was only thinking of you when I said that."

"Oh, I see" she muttered, then took a deep breath. "I should have had a clue when Sebastian offered me no public displays of affection. I mean I didn't want him to fawn over me, but he didn't even want to hold hands when we went on dates. Even in a dark movie theater! The bigger problem was that he was rather prudish… or boring. Both really. Not that I'm some kind of sex maniac, but… he wasn't very adventurous. And we never slept together if that's what you're wondering. His choice, not mine," she blathered, then paused a moment before she let their gazes meet again. At seeing the questioning look on his face, she felt she had to continue, to make sure he understood exactly what she was telling him, but he spoke before she was able to form the sentence.

"You wanted to sleep with him and he refused?" he asked, his lips twisted in disbelief. "Or is there more to it than that?"

"He had found religion, or religion had found him, depending on who you talk to," she scoffed. "He wanted to go slowly, to… to be truly committed to each other, but I was impatient." She laughed, albeit with much hesitation and no joy. "I think it's important for you to know," she said softly, "that there haven't been many other men. I know you're thinking I'm a hypocrite because I want to wait with you, but the cop had dumped me a few weeks before I hooked up with Sebastian, and I was used to having regular sex."

 _Too bad I didn't know her then_. "I don't know what kind of man wouldn't have thrown a willing and beautiful woman onto the bed and fucked her senseless." Her face flushed bright red, his own eyes widening at his rash, crude comment.

"I know it!" Thankfully, she wasn't the least bit distressed by his statement. If anything, she seemed flattered. "Sebastian was a bit peculiar. Well, I guess that makes me peculiar now, too."

"Not at all, Marian. And there's no pressure here, but I'd be a liar if I said I didn't want you so much right now I can taste it. I know we will make love, I'm sure of it, but only when you're ready," he said, smiling a gentle, affectionate smile. "However, I _will_ continue to entice you." He sealed his remark with a mind-blowing kiss that left her weak at the knees and wondering why she was holding back.

"You're not making this any easier, you know," she said, nestling against his shoulder.

"I'm sorry." Bran shook his head. He wasn't sorry. He was about as far from sorry as he could be, and he wanted to make his intentions as straightforward as possible without seeming like a wanton stalker. The emotional attachment worried her, he knew, but she was not alone in that worry. _I'll have to find a way to make her less anxious, to make myself more emotionally available_. He chuckled inwardly. Maker, he hated when he sounded like a shrink. "And don't worry about your mother either. I have considerable charms, and I know how to impress domineering mothers. She won't be able to resist me."

"I like your confidence, but just promise you'll behave if you hear anything meant to… provoke you, from my mother, or my sister and brother. I have a feeling they will prod you for information in the most humiliating way possible. It's what they do best."

"Don't worry so much, Marian. I won't say anything to embarrass you." Reluctantly, he slipped on his shoes, pulling away from her embrace with a sigh.

"I'm not worried about you, but I regress when I'm around my mother too long. Don't be surprised if you see a part of me that you don't quite like."

"I can't imagine you saying or doing anything that would turn me off."

"Want to make a bet?" she challenged.

"No. In fact, I expect to be totally turned on by you tomorrow." He moved in closer, his face mere inches from hers.

"Now that's a bit weird, isn't it?" she whispered.

"No, it isn't. Do you want to know precisely what I think whenever I look at you? The wicked, unedited version?" The tempting tone of his voice was followed by an equally tempting kiss. She melted into him, feeling all the reasons for not giving in to him starting to vanish like snow in spring. When she opened her mouth to answer, he put a finger against her lips. "Be very sure before you ask."

Marian nodded, her eyes wide as he pulled her closer. "Tell me." She gasped when he settled against her and brushed his lips to her ear, sending waves of excitement through her body as she struggled not to let herself tremble with desire.

"Just thinking about what I want to do to you is enough to make me hard." Hot blood rushed to her face, but he wouldn't let her look away now. He held her chin firmly and brought his lips close to hers again, holding her tighter, molding her against his body, letting her feel how much he wanted her. The sensual promise of his words rolled off his tongue in a caressing whisper. "I want to strip you naked and run my tongue all over you. I want to taste every inch of you, to learn what makes you tremble, what makes you beg for more. I want to be buried deep inside you, to feel every inch of your body squeeze around me when you finally lose control and scream _my_ name so I know I'm the man you're thinking of when you come."

His words were so shameless, his voice so raw with emotion she couldn't help but whimper. With eyes closed, her whole body flushed - if that was even possible - as his fingers continued their journey, down her neck and over her collarbone as he whispered his intentions in her ear, telling her over and over how beautiful she was, how perfect. Her desire for him leapt to the ceiling. She pictured it all in her mind, every tantalizing touch, every kiss to her exposed flesh, every passionate moment before they finally made love to each other.

When his hand moved over her breast and his lips nibbled at hers, Marian looked at him, longing and frustration reflected in his eyes. She had imagined this so many times, fantasized that one day a man would want her this much, and tell her so. But she pulled back suddenly. _This is too dangerous_ , she thought.

His kisses and his words had sapped the last of her energy and left her boneless. Lost in a dreamy haze, she said the first thing that came to mind. "I'm, uh, ready to go."

"'Ready to go'?" His brows narrowed.

"I mean you should go. Or no! I mean it's late, and… Oh Maker, Bran, you can't say those things to me and not expect me to get flustered." Her mind had formed the images far too easily, and now they wouldn't go away. When she looked up at him, he was smiling at her, finding her discomfort rather amusing.

"Are you all hot and bothered now?" he asked with a teasing glint in his eyes. "I can fix that."

"I'm going to hold you to that, to everything you've just said... but at another time." She tried to put some punch in her words but knew she failed miserably.

He arched one eyebrow as he looked at her, mischief sparkling in the fiery depths of his eyes. "Tell me one thing, Marian, do you have a name for that thing you did with your tongue earlier?"

Warmth stained her cheeks and she looked away, whispering. "You liked that, did you?"

He touched his finger to her chin and made her look at him. "Very much." The lust in his eyes was so intense she squirmed; he was holding himself back by the sheer force of his will.

There was a hint of flirtation in her movements and a saucy twinkle in her eye when she spoke. "I could be persuaded to demonstrate again if dinner goes well tomorrow."

"This dinner with your family," he said, pulling her to her feet and into his arms, "will be child's play. And you can expect a full dessert course to be had right here afterward." Bran whispered that he should leave before she tempted him further.

Blowing out a sigh, she said goodnight as she led him to the door. "One last kiss," she begged.

How could he refuse her? She slipped into his embrace and pushed her lips against his. Passion exploded through them both as they experienced what would be their last embrace until the next day. In a moment of clarity, he looked into her eyes for _any_ sign of hesitation or regret but saw none, only unabashed affection.

Emotions flooded him then, foolish, sentimental sorts of yearning. "I'll be there for you tomorrow as soon as we're done with brunch."

"Text me when you're on your way."

"Will do. I'll bring over a bottle of wine and some-"

"I'm going to miss you tonight," she said, cutting him off.

"I'll miss you, too." He felt stupid saying that, but it was the truth, damn it all. He smiled at her, then kissed her sweetly, gazing at her as his hand ran down her cheek.

She let him go reluctantly, pulling away with a heavy sigh. Marian watched as he disappeared into the darkness of the parking lot. For a few minutes, she stood there until his car vanished from sight, then she went inside to choose an outfit for tomorrow, wondering how she could put together one that Bran would like, and at the same time, one that her mother would approve of. If nothing else, at least she would have Bran at her side. No matter how annoying her family would be, the promise of spending time with him diminished the queasiness she felt at the thought of the family gathering for First Day.


	7. ...But You Can't Choose Your Family

"Where is your _friend_ , Marian?" Leandra eyes zoomed in on her daughter as she came inside the house. Marian's hair had been blown by the gusty wind, and little tendrils fell all around her face. Under her mother's scrutinizing gaze, she tried to tame the locks as best as she could, but decided to leave it just a _little_ messy. Much to Marian's astonishment, her mother nodded approvingly anyway. "Did he have a sudden case of cold feet? We're not that intimidating, are we?"

 _Shit, the moment of truth._ "He, uh… he had to spend some time with…" _Maker, she's going to flip_. "His son." She said the words just barely above a whisper.

"His _son?_ " Leandra held her breath. A son meant he had a wife, or he'd _had_ a wife, or he had no wife and a bastard! "Marian, who is this man you're seeing? Is he from Kirkwall? Are you seeing a _married man_ from right here in Kirkwall?"

"He's not married! But he does live here." Marian took a deep breath. "You may know him. He owns Kirkwall Printing," she said, following the sound of her brother's voice. "You know, the place over by the-"

"Bran Winthrop?" she shrieked. "He was married to that exotic dancer! I hope this is just another one of your jokes to get me riled up, and if so, it is decidedly _not_ funny."

"I'm sorry, Mother, but I'm not joking." She rushed past a silent Carver after giving him a quick smile and bee lined for the wet bar. As she took a long swallow of wine, a shiver went down her spine. "And Katriela was not an exotic dancer. She was just a… a regular dancer, like a professional, not a _stripper_." The glass went down on the bar with a loud clink as Leandra approached. "In any case, please don't start in with me, Mother."

"Marian, he's almost old enough to be-" Marian's narrowed brows stopped her from finishing. "Honestly, isn't he too… _mature_ for a young girl like you?"

Marian laughed at that. "Clearly you're still in denial about having a daughter my age."

"I'm simply thinking of your future, dear."

"You mean you're thinking of _your_ future. Future grandchildren, to be specific."

"Is that so wrong? Bethany and Carver aren't any closer to marriage let alone children."

"And neither am I." Carver snorted. Marian glanced at him with pleading eyes, but he remained stoic, secretly amused by the back-and-forth banter. "Really, Mother, Bran's age has no bearing on my ability to have a child." Another large mouthful of wine went down quickly. "New. Topic."

"You'll always play second fiddle to his son," Leandra continued. "And have you thought about what it will be like with him in twenty years? You will still be a young woman, and he will have one foot in the grave."

"Spending all your money on adult diapers," Carver muttered, grinning.

"Oh, please. Such dramatics. He's not _that_ much older than me. People live well into their eighties or longer with all the latest advances in medicine," she argued, knowing it was pointless. "His business has been very successful, and he's certainly more mature and serious about life than most of the men I know." _Maker, I don't even know what I'm saying anymore._

Leandra spoke in the even tone of a woman who had refined her strength and was determined to succeed. "An older man, especially one who has been through a messy divorce _and_ has a grown son, is very much set in his ways. Flexibility tends to wane by the time you reach my age."

"He's not your age!" Marian hated herself when she reacted this way, but her mother seemed determined to push all her buttons.

"What could he possibly see in someone so immature?"

"Mom," she said, louder now. "I'm almost thirty years old. It would hardly make him a pedophile."

Bethany giggled as she entered the room, embracing Marian. "Don't let her get to you," she whispered.

"He's still too old for you," Leandra said stubbornly. "He's almost the right age for a woman like me though."

"Are you crazy, Mother? I'm a bit grossed out by what you've just suggested."

"Ooh, Mom's cougar tendencies are showing again," Bethany joked. "Rawrrr!"

Laughing to herself, Marian drained the glass and then poured some more, hoping to blur the image in her head with the next glassful. Her anger wouldn't dissipate though. "I think you need to get a life and find your own man, Mom. Before it's too late."

"Do not take that tone with me, Marian Elizabeth," she chided. "I haven't said anything offensive enough to cause such disrespect."

Marian had to clench her teeth. "Sorry." How was it that her mother made her feel like an awkward young girl again? Like a teenager who just wanted her mother to be pleased with her. She sighed. Perhaps it was the pending storm making the atmosphere tense, or maybe it was the direction the conversation had taken. No matter which. The night would be full of turbulence from now on, she knew it.

"I know you develop attachments to these men, dear," Leandra called over her shoulder, waving for them all to follow her to the kitchen. "But you must consider this from all angles. His former wife's divorce settlement was more than substantial, and I suspect between child support and alimony, he's not as wealthy as he pretends. Is Katriela part owner of the business?" Marian's blank expression answered her. "See? You don't even know the most basic of things in regard to this man."

"No, I don't, and that is because we have only just started dating! So please, can we change the subject?" _Maker, she's right. I have no idea how deep Katriela's claws sink into his bank account_.

"He is quite attractive," said Bethany. "Is he incredibly romantic too? Have you fallen in love with him already?"

"We. Just. Started. Dating!" Her voice quivered with emotions she had hoped to keep under control. Marian shoved a deviled egg into her mouth and pointed to it, indicating her inability to respond further.

Carver smirked. "Well Beth, I think you just got your answer."

"'uck you, 'arver."

"What is he, fifty years old?" Carver asked. "I bet he takes Viagra." He couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice, and Marian wondered why he was as spiteful now as he had been when they were children.

"He's not much over f-for-ty," Marian sputtered as the canapé went down the wrong way. "It's only a ten year difference, for Maker's sake."

"Oh, so you're just in time for his mid-life-crisis **."** Carver threw back the last of his drink and set the crystal glass on the counter top. "You can be his trophy wife while he tools around in a sports car with pretty young girls and spends hours pampering them at the spa **."**

"Carver, leave her alone," Bethany admonished while handing her mother some serving spoons.

"While we're discussing age differences," Marian said in a tone denoting anything but humor, "what about that _schoolgirl_ you've been seeing? Surely statutory rape must enter your mind at times."

"That's enough!" Leandra threw her oven mitt on the counter without her usual grace and decorum, stunning them all into silence. "I won't have this day ruined by the two of you sniping at each other. Carver, please get the big platter on the top shelf in the pantry."

Carver stalked away, but not before poking Marian's arm, hard. Marian had to bite back a grimace as she silently calculated how long it would take before a bruise would appear. _Asshole_.

Bethany sidled up next to her. "You have to lighten up, Sister. If you don't, Mother and Carver will eat you alive once your boyfriend gets here." Bethany knew her sister well enough to see she was totally smitten with Bran. And she couldn't blame her. Everyone knew his promiscuous reputation, but he was still one of the most desired single men in town, baggage and all. "Play along with the game and try to find some humor in it."

"Easy for you to say, _prom queen_. Mother thinks you walk on water."

"Hardly," she laughed. "She only wants you to be happy." Laying her hand on Marian's arm, she smiled. "You know, she was hoping you would bring Sebastian. I think you really caught her off guard with this. But I'm happy for you, if you're happy that is."

"I am. He's... not what you'd expect. At all." Soft eyes turned up to look at her sister. "I think you'll like him, Beth. He treats me like a princess, and he's open and honest with me."

"You don't need to convince me. After Sebastian, I was worried you wouldn't find someone better suited for you," Bethany said. "So have you slept with him yet?"

Marian was a bit shocked by her sister's bluntness but smiled wickedly. "Yes. Technically we have slept together... in the same bed."

"Well, who's waiting? You?"

"We both are," Marian lied. "Sex isn't everything, Beth, and as I said, we've only just started dating and-" Startling her, Marian's cell phone buzzed against her hip. She not-so-politely excused herself to another room by waving the phone in Bethany's face.

"I'm not done questioning you yet, Sister!" Bethany shouted after her.

"But I'm done answering!" she yelled back, fumbling with her phone. At reading Bran's first words, a delicious tingle spread through her. The smile on her lips was so immense, she thought her face might crack.

_Hello, gorgeous. I've missed you, but I'm on my way now._

_Missed you too. Hurry up but don't be reckless!_

_That bad?_

_Worse. :(_

_Here I come to save the day!_

_LOL!_ _Mighty Mouse!_

_See you in a few._

_Can't wait. :D_

Strolling back into the kitchen with her chin held high, Marian addressed her family, the strength and determination of her smile a bit menacing. "Bran will be here shortly, and I'd appreciate if you all would rein it in and not embarrass me by grilling him for any details of his past, present, or future."

"That leaves very little to discuss," Carver scoffed.

"I don't really care," she said. "Then don't speak at all. We'll eat and be gone before you know it."

"All right," Leandra drawled, sounding almost resigned before she came on full tilt. "So help me, if you two don't stop this childish bickering…." She snatched up a napkin and shook it out with a snap. "I trust my children to behave in a manner that befits a member of the Amell family."

"Whatever that means," Carver muttered.

As Leandra saw it, her pride and dignity, as well as her family name, were all she had left, and she intended to keep every last bit of it. "Your father was just as proud of the Amell name as he was the Hawke name. He had no issues with me keeping my family's legacy alive."

"And what has the Amell name done for you lately?" Carver said with a snicker. "Father was a well-respected physician right up until his death. Do you know that some people think you were embarrassed by his holistic healing methods and that's why you never took his name?"

"That's rubbish. And I don't care what _some people_ think. Your father saved the lives of countless people with his healing methods. He was everything to me, Carver. Not a day goes by that I don't think of him. They don't make men like him anymore. Malcolm was moral and brave and more principled than any man I've ever met." Leandra hesitated for a moment, her eyes growing misty.

_Here it comes_ , they all thought.

"But he lives on in my children. I see him in you, Carver, in the way you walk and carry yourself, the way you strive to better yourself and your family. I see his heart in Bethany, in the way her eyes soften when she treats a patient at the clinic, and the way she cares for the homeless at the soup kitchen. I see him in Marian, in her intelligence and common sense." Leandra looked at Marian, who was so moved by her mother's surprising words she could only produce a weak smile and nod as she fought back tears. "And at times, you keep your emotions bottled up, Marian, just as he did, but I can still see your father's romantic notions of love in you." Leandra did not wipe away the tears, letting them run down her cheeks. "My children are the best of Malcolm Hawke, and the best of me. Never forget that."

As her children surrounded her in a rare group hug, Leandra expressed her pride in them, saying how strong and courageous her children had become. When they pulled apart and started drifting toward different areas of the kitchen, Marian enjoyed all the genuine smiles on the faces of her family, burning the memory in her mind, for she was sure at least another year would pass before such a monumental event occurred again.

Marian looked at her watch just as the doorbell rang. Bran's timing was perfect.

"I'll get it!" the Hawke children all said at once, although no one made a move but Marian.

" _I_ will get it, damn it," said Marian between clenched teeth. "You all stay in the kitchen."

She rushed to the foyer and opened the door, feeling slightly out of breath. There he stood in the doorway, smiling and holding a bottle of wine wrapped in shiny purple cellophane. A gleam of admiration lit his eyes as he took her in from head to toe, as if she were a work of art. She blushed when she noticed him staring, but couldn't help admiring how handsome he looked too.

"You look lovely, Marian."

"Thank you. You look pretty good yourself." She smiled back at him, wondering why he was gazing at her with such intensity. _Is he turned on already? Maybe he wasn't just saying that…._ "Come on in, Bran. It's about to storm," she said, pointing out the thick and dark, low-level clouds. She swept him into the house and out of the impending rain with a flourish toward the sky worthy of a seasoned weather girl. "The nor'easter is moving in fast. There is supposed to be a storm surge to the coastal areas, and depending on the track, we could have an ice storm."

Bran's eyebrows rose and a faint smile curled his lips. "Have we been reduced to conversations about the weather already?"

She threw her arms around his shoulders and squeezed him quickly. "That _was_ kind of pathetic, wasn't it?" At once, the energy resonating between them was a tangible thing, and she let go of him with a sigh. "I'm so glad to see you, Bran, but let's keep the touchy-feelies to a minimum for now."

He made a small grunt of disapproval. "For now." Her expression seemed off somehow, her lips so tight and straight, her eyes pinched a bit. "Are you all right? You have a slightly... constipated look about you."

"Ew. Not attractive, I'm sure." For his benefit, she managed a chuckle, but her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm all right... now. Was brunch nice?"

"Luke and I caught up on his studies, and he told me about a girl he's interested in." He shrugged. "It was nice few hours."

He deliberately didn't mention Katriela. Marian's thoughts raced, crashing around in her head. Maybe Katriela came on to him. Maybe they had words. Maybe Marian's name came up and Katriela lambasted her, trying to turn Luke against a woman he didn't even know yet! An awful feeling took up residence in her gut. The ten paces before she reached her mother loomed before her, to the inquisition awaiting inside the kitchen.

"You can tell me more about brunch later if you'd like." She smiled encouragingly, and he nodded. Then she took his hand and led him forward. "Time for the introductions," she squeaked. He squeezed her sweaty hand, and it both relieved her fears and warmed her heart. Temporarily.

Aside from her palms being damp, the change in her was subtle, with no real outward effect, no disturbance of the wholesome, cheerful nature that was the very essence of her being. But when Leandra greeted them, Marian became solemn.

"Mother, this is Bran Winthrop. Bran, this is my mother, Leandra." Her mother looked at him and squinted her eyes, cocking her head a little to the side, the expression on her face hard to read.

Leandra reached out to shake his hand, but he surprised her by taking her hand and stepping forward to kiss her cheek. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Hawke."

"It's Amell, Leandra Amell," she said with a slight crack in her voice.

Marian winced. _Shit, I forgot to mention that_.

"Welcome to my home, Mr. Winthrop." Her mother's smile was forced, but convincing.

"Please, call me Bran."

Leandra stiffened. "And you may call me Leandra. After all, you're no longer a teenager, are you?"

After pinning her mother with a glare, Marian introduced Bran to Bethany and Carver. When Bran said something funny, Bethany laughed hysterically, and Marian knew he had passed her approval already. Carver, on the other hand, was unusually quiet again. Not withdrawn or angry, but thoughtful, his eyes analyzing every sentence, reading every gesture and tick as if preparing to write a profile on the man.

Marian shoved the bottle of wine into Carver's hands. "Can you go uncork this and let it breathe on the dining room table?"

Carver shrugged. Every time she saw her brother's cold, expressionless face, she flinched inside. Marian wondered if her brother was a sociopath after all. _At least a part-time sociopath_.

Once everyone had a drink in their hands, they sat down and made small talk, snacking on chips and dips Leandra had set out. Bran seemed comfortable speaking about his shop, his son, even the loss of his parents in a tragic airplane crash. He sensed the concerted effort to keep the conversation going, keeping it light, talking about easy things, things that would not upset anyone.

Marian was reserved and quiet, presumably letting the ice break so everyone would feel more comfortable with each other. But she was ready for the shoe to drop at any moment, even though no one had broached a scandalous or embarrassing topic. Not yet. Her uneasiness bothered Bran more than he wanted to admit. Without her input, the conversations were often stunted and eventually they all labored on trivia and niceties until Carver mentioned the recent tax increases.

"We need more big business in Kirkwall, or we'll never generate enough tax revenue for improvements," Carver said. "I have potholes the size of craters on my street."

Bran's hackles went up. " _Particular_ big businesses would be beneficial, like restaurant chains and a movie theater." He squared his shoulders, putting his drink down with a thud. "Unfortunately, we have politicians who spend money hand over fist on projects that are designed to do nothing but get them re-elected, like our spineless First Selectman, Marlowe Dumar. He doesn't have an inkling about what it takes to run a small business. And the answers to Kirkwall's problems are _not t_ o be found in the archetypal big-box stores."

Leandra's glass went down with a louder thud. "Marlowe has done everything in his power to keep the citizens safe and informed, to keep funds flowing to our schools, to keep our drinking water free of toxins. He is only one man, after all, and there are many other politicians hindering Kirkwall's local growth."

The revelation of Leandra and Dumar's friendship registered on Bran's face, and Marian tensed. "Who needs a refill?" she asked with fake merriment. Only Carver lifted his glass as Marian stood. _Dear Maker, please don't let this escalate…._

"That's all fine and good," Bran said, "but if Dumar succeeds in bringing a big-box office supply chain to Kirkwall, I will be out of business within two months."

Marian jumped in, supporting Bran with similar information of her own in an attempt to diffuse the tension. "Even my company is thinking of relocating because of expenses. Or worse, they could sell KE to a large corporate firm. It's getting harder and harder for KE to stay afloat these days."

The underlying strain that had tightened Bran's features faded at her supportive remark. "KE is in a similar situation to my business. Between the rent I pay in the building owned by Dumar's buddies, the high taxes, and the lack of small business funding, my net profit margin has seen a dramatic decline since he's been in office."

Leandra gritted her teeth and held back the unseemly urge to tell Bran where to stuff his opinions. "I could go on and on about Marlowe's successes, just as you think you can about his failures. But this discussion has no place here, not today." She rose from the couch, her eyes searching his face for regret.

"I'm sorry, Leandra," Bran said with an apologetic tip of his head. "I meant no disrespect. But my business was built by the blood and sweat of my father. I've always assumed the day I had to lock up for the last time would not come for many, many years. But things are changing here in Kirkwall, and not for the better." Bran picked up his drink and took a sip, then shook his head. "It's hard to let go of a dream you've nurtured like a child." He looked at Marian, and the warmth in her gaze gave him a ray of hope. "But perhaps I need to work on my pessimism."

Leandra watched as Bran sat back, gazing at Marian with his hand on her arm, his smile only for her. It was quite apparent when their eyes met that he had an effect on her. Leandra knew she was unaccustomed to feeling that way around a man. True, he had insulted her friend, but Leandra respected his devotion to his family's business, the high standards he set for himself. She knew he had to give it everything he had when his father died. He was passionate about what he did, and he maintained a high standard of excellence known throughout Kirkwall. _I'll give him a break this time_. "Bethany. Carver. Come help me in the kitchen." Dutifully, they followed, giving Marian and Bran the opportunity to talk alone finally.

"So far, so good, right?" he said to Marian. "Well, until that last bit."

"I agree with you though. Dumar's an idiot." She moved slightly, her body shifting closer to his. "But Mother has been friends with him for years, and she's not really savvy about politics. Just loyal to her friends."

When he felt her tension subside, he risked resting his hand on her thigh. "Why have you been so quiet until now? It's not your style, as far as I've been able to observe."

"No, it's not. I'm off my game today." She sighed as she raised her gaze to Bran. "My mother said some kind things about me before you arrived, and I just know she's going to negate it all one way or another. Dinner will be the true test."

He put an arm around her and gave her a squeeze. "Have a little faith, Marian." He leaned into her, pressing his lips to her ear briefly "I want to kiss you," he whispered. If anything, the desire in his eyes intensified as Bran felt Marian's discomfort. "Everywhere."

"Maker, don't say that right now."

Bran took a slow moment to unveil the most lascivious of smiles. "Does it turn you on?"

"I... yes," she whispered, unable to lie. The combination of her nervousness and his seduction flipped her stomach with nausea. "But... let's just… go and see if they need help." She forced herself to smile.

He stared after her retreating form for a long moment. He didn't think it was what he said, but she seemed in quite a hurry to get away from him. Or maybe she just wanted to speed things along, to get dinner over with as soon as possible. The second option was the preferred course of action, and he leapt from the couch to assist in any way he could.

When Bran entered the kitchen, Leandra looked up from where she was mixing fruit for a salad. She gave him a small smile before handing him the bowl.

"Would you mind putting this on the table?"

"Not at all." He smiled brightly. "If there is anything else I can do to help, just let me know."

Leandra ran an assessment through her head as he walked away. He certainly had manners, an excellent upbringing, and an education. He was masculine and self-assured, but not overly arrogant—not that she had detected so far, at least. Then again, he was trying to impress them, but didn't want to look like he was trying to impress them. Leandra knew this game well. Perhaps he was going to be suitable for Marian, but she would keep a close eye on him. If their relationship grew more serious, she would also have to do something about his former wife, if the rumors circulating through the social circles held any truth.

"Dinner is just about ready," Leandra announced. Loaves of bread sat on the counter next to her, the Veal Oscar on the stovetop cuing their taste buds to its forthcoming placement on the immaculately dressed table.

When Bran excused himself to wash up, Marian almost followed him to the bathroom, but Bethany took the opportunity to corner her.

"I don't think he's too old for you. And those eyes! I swear, Marian, if he looked at me the way he looks at you, I'd swoon at his feet."

"Really? I mean does he look at me like… like he…."

"Wants to shag? Yes." Marian rolled her eyes. "He also looks at you like he's into you, like it's more than simple fascination. Do you think he could be _the one_ , Marian?"

"I don't know. I've known him for a few years, but never had more than a short conversation with him until the other day." For a moment, she stared off dreamily, and Bethany giggled. "Yes, I know it seems crazy, but I've never felt connected to someone this quickly before."

"Is he a good lover?"

"Really, Beth, I don't think that's-"

"Seeing the beautiful Hawke sisters whispering in a darkened corner makes me a bit nervous." Bran flashed Bethany his most mischievous smile and brow waggle.

Marian rolled her eyes as he shifted next to her, putting his arm around the small of her back and drawing her to him. His gaze smoldered with unspoken desire. Caressing fingers were hidden from sight, his hand at her side drawing tiny circles, causing frissons of heat to shoot through her, frissons she steadfastly ignored… more or less. _I could drag him to the upstairs bathroom…._

"Time for supper!"

_Damn it!_

Leandra rang a dinner bell for emphasis, causing a variety of snickering sounds from all directions. The little party took their places at the dining table, shining with silver and sparkling with crystal, dozens of assorted knives, forks, and spoons, set out for Maker only knew what reason. For all the polite conversation so far, Marian was sure the flippant remarks and sly glances would be well underway before she could figure out which fork to stab her food with.

They all joined hands, and thankful prayers were offered to the Maker and Andraste before the platters and bowls made their way around. The oohs and ahhs obviously kept Leandra occupied in complacent silence. Under the table, Marian's foot reached for the comforting contact of Bran's. She never looked at him, though – not really looked at him as she piled her plate high with generous helpings from each dish. Here, at her mother's home, there was no need to stand on ceremony all the time, or so she thought.

"Aveline's nutritional supplements seem to be agreeing with you," Leandra said as Marian shoveled some potatoes au gratin into her mouth.

"'Seem'? You're so subtle, Mother." Marian looked over at her; Leandra's scowl was clearly directed at what she deemed uncivilized eating behavior. Marian watched the wheels turning in her mother's head and impulsively reached for Bran's hand under the table for support. Her anxiety came off her in waves Bran swore he could feel.

Leandra's eyes darted to Bran, pinning him with a prying stare. "Your former wife has certainly kept herself in fine form these last years. She hasn't succumbed to the usual sags and lumps that befall most women."

Marian froze. _Nice dig at me, Mother_.

"Is it yoga and vegetarianism," Leandra asked, "or is she simply practicing some form of magic?"

"I don't know, but her plastic surgeon might be." Bran smiled, holding tight to Marian's hand.

Carver and Bethany could only stare at Leandra, who didn't make a move or a sound. Marian wanted to gloat, to rejoice in her mother's discomfort but figured it wouldn't serve any purpose. Bran took it all in with casual indifference - and a mouthful of Veal Oscar.

Marian's smile tightened. "Anything else you'd like to ask Bran, Mother?"

Leandra narrowed her brows, but Bethany chimed in before she could retort. "You'll never guess who I ran into the other day!" All eyes went to her. "Do you remember my first _real_ boyfriend, Cullen?"

"That nerdy guy who was always spouting medical facts?" Carver asked.

"One in the same. But now he's that nerdy guy who turned out to be handsome and rich. He's a brain surgeon! Totally blew me away."

"And? Is _he_ married with children?" Leandra asked, putting a vague edge on the question.

"He is not. I have a date with him next week."

That's all it took to turn the tide. Marian smiled warmly at her sister, knowing Bethany could take whatever her mother would dish out. Bran's hand rested on Marian's thigh for a brief moment of support, which practically made her sigh with longing now that the heat was off her. The conversation was light and teasing now, sprinkled with high school anecdotes and experiences from everyone's past. Bethany was all but heading to the courthouse for a marriage license by the time the last of the food scraps and dishes were cleaned off the table.

Marian and her sister gathered the plates and silverware, rinsing them off and loading the dishwasher, while Leandra wrapped the leftovers. Bran offered to help, but he was shooed away.

He gestured for Carver to join him in the living room. "Let's go put some hair on your chest." Carver smiled at that, and followed behind.

"Now if we can only find someone for Carver." Leandra sighed dramatically. "That is if anyone can stand his brooding long enough."

"Hey! I can hear you, Mother," Carver injected as he left the room.

Leandra didn't give his comment a second thought and touched Marian's shoulder. Drawing her away from the sink, she spoke low. "Your friend is very well spoken, very courteous, and he seems kind enough. All admirable qualities and I certainly don't _dislike_ him," she said. "He also appears to care for you, and I do trust your judgment, dear. However…." Marian's heart leapt into her throat as her mother leaned closer. "I've heard talk among my friends that his former wife wants him back. She's made it quite clear."

_No no no…._ "She doesn't want him back." Marian was whispering now, her eyes carefully peering around the kitchen. Bethany was busy, up to her elbows in dirty dishes and humming a tune. "She's just being a bitch."

"She loves him, or at least she wants him back so she can try to love him properly this time. She'll stop at nothing when she learns of you."

_Too late._ "Even if she did want him back, which she does not, _he_ doesn't want _her_. He told me so. He's had nothing to do with her since-" She cut herself off. _Since the rooftop antics. Shit!_

Leandra didn't need to guess at what Marian was thinking. "There's something between them, something that may have happened, or maybe didn't happen. I don't know exactly. All I am saying is you should be extremely wary of her. I'll keep my ears tuned to the latest gossip and let you know what I hear." Leandra pulled her daughter into an embrace. "But don't worry, dear, everything always works out for the best."

Memories flooded Marian's mind, remembering the secure warmth of her mother's arms, the soft touch of kisses covering her face when she was frightened as a child. "Thanks, Mom."

"I see the way you look at him, the way your eyes light up when he gazes at you. I don't think you've ever looked at another man like that. It reminds me of when I first met your father. I think I fell in love with him before he introduced himself." She laughed somberly. "And I left poor Guillaume at the altar only having known your father for a short time." She took a deep breath and took her daughter by the shoulders, holding her gaze so she understood the seriousness of her next statement. "You've always been a fighter, Marian, and I've never known you to give up. If you fall in love with this man, and he loves you too, then you fight to keep him."

There was a strange tone in her mother's voice, somewhere between admiration and anxiety. Marian ignored it as best she could, passing it off as overprotectiveness. _Where was she last year when I needed to be told to dump the cop!_

When it came time to leave, one thing was certain: Bran had impressed her mother enough to encourage her to seek out the unknown rather than to be frightened by it. Marian heard the underlying "love is worth the effort" implication as her mother encouraged her to be relaxed about her future.

"In time, the future will come to you," Leandra told her. "There is no point in hurrying to it." Her mother gave Marian one of her infrequent bright smiles that were like little rewards.

"He's a keeper," Bethany said, winking at Bran as she kissed Marian's cheek. "I'll call you after my date with Cullen." Marian nodded.

"Take care, Marian." Carver gave her a half-hug and rubbed her head with his knuckles.

_Progress_ , Marian thought. She then hugged her mother tightly, appreciative of her concern. "Talk to you soon, Mom. And thanks for the lovely dinner."

"Goodbye, Leandra," Bran said with a hug. "This was a splendid holiday with delicious food and good company. Thank you for the hospitality you and your family extended to me tonight."

"You just take care of my daughter and you will be welcome here any time. And if you don't take care of her, then I will take care of _you_." No veiled threat there. Nothing but pure menace, and Bran knew it.

"Duly noted, Leandra. And I intend to take care of your daughter, not because you are telling me to, but because," Bran paused and gazed at Marian, "I can't imagine a day without her in it now." Marian reeled, struggling to keep her knees from buckling as he took her hand. The romantic sigh that came from Bethany was much louder than Carver's grunt, but Leandra merely smiled at him and nodded admiringly.

Marian and Bran dashed to their cars as the rain came down in buckets, both thinking of how the night would unfold. During the eight-minute drive to her condominium, she reflected on her mother's comments and thought she did have to question Bran about Katriela and his divorce if things got more involved with them.

_But not tonight_. Good thing she lived close by. Just the thought of his hands on her caused an excited chill to race along her skin. She flew into a parking spot and raced to her front door with Bran one step behind.


	8. Light My Fire

Marian and Bran came through the door in a burst of laughter and quickly shut it behind them. She flipped a switch and turned on soft, muted overhead lights. They were both wet and cold from the icy rain, and Marian gestured for him to take off his coat.

"We should change into some dry clothes, too," she said, kicking off her heels into a corner. "Then I can whip up some strawberry shortcake, if you like."

"Or, we can get naked and I can spread whipped cream all over you," he paused, staring at her, so close she could feel his breath, "and then lick it off." Amused, he watched her face as he ran his hand up the muscular line of her leg to where the split in her dress ended just below her hip. He touched her delicately, tracing her cheekbones, her nose, and her eyebrows. Where his fingers caressed, his lips followed, tasting, teasing until her breath shivered and sped with pleasure.

"Unzip me," she breathed. He did so, moving the dress over her shoulders and then down her arms and off, revealing a short black slip. She let the dress fall to the floor as his eyes widened and traced all over her, drinking in the sight of her exposed flesh rippling with goosebumps. He nibbled her earlobe and kissed her neck while his arms closed around her, his hands reaching to guide the straps of her slip down, but she stopped him.

"Hold that thought." With a sly grin, Marian left the room, leaving a slightly stunned Bran empty handed.

He loosened his collar, feeling warm and aroused beyond measure. Taking his shoes off, he set them over a heat register to dry out, and then waited patiently for her, standing in the middle of the living room, his thoughts rather muddled. A strong need was rising inside him to be candid with Marian, to forget about his cautious nature, his hedonistic experiences with other women, and instead, take a momentous leap into the future. He certainly wasn't rebounding; he'd been divorced too long. But was he ready to settle down again? To get it right this time? When Marian came out of the bedroom, another point was mentally tallied in favor of settling down.

She wore a pair of emerald-green satin pajamas, setting off her flushed cheeks and darkened eyes to much advantage. And what was that look in her eyes? Impatience? Humor? Lust? All of the above? She was a mystery to him. No woman had ever been a mystery before. He could always figure them out. But Marian was different.

A black tee shirt was handed to him, but upon further inspection, she realized he had somehow stayed dryer than she had. "I thought you'd need this, but…." The shirt flew back over her shoulder, landing on the coffee table.

"No flannel tonight?" he asked as she fell into his arms.

"I know you'd appreciate something more revealing, but I don't actually own anything sexier than this. I threw away all my lingerie last year in an 'I hate men' tirade."

"That slip was quite sexy." His hand went to her hair, and he lifted a heavy lock, letting it run through his fingers. "Perhaps I'll buy you a sheer lace teddy with a plunging neckline."

She laughed. "I wouldn't say no." Holding hands, they moved to the couch.

"I had forgotten that your parents died in a plane crash," she said, her finger tracing along his arm. "I can't imagine how dreadful that must have been for you."

 _Not the direction I'd hoped the conversation to take…_. He looked at her, his mouth set into a grim line with a slight narrowing of his brows. "They were heading for our beach house on Rialto Bay. Katriela had a family emergency that weekend, and if she hadn't insisted I stay in Kirkwall for Luke, even though he was old enough to stay home alone, I would have been on the plane, too."

Without thinking, her fingers closed around his wrist tightly, a chill invading the room, and her heart. "I'm so sorry. Oh Maker, Bran, you would have…." She couldn't finish the sentence, couldn't even finish it in her mind.

"Yeah," he sighed. "It was just one of those things you have no control over. Then I panicked over having to run the shop by myself. I didn't realize how much I had relied on my father's advice."

She continued to stare at him, but tears began running down her cheeks. "I just… I can't begin to tell you how-" She stopped, about to sound utterly insensitive to his loss.

 _Tears?_ "You can say anything to me, Marian. Whatever you're thinking."

"It's so selfish of me, really, but I'm so happy you weren't on that plane." She clung to him then, her head resting on his chest.

"Is that it?" he whispered into her hair, his warm breath tickling her ear. He found himself smiling at her admission. "That's not selfish, Marian, just honest. Believe me, I'm glad I wasn't on that plane, too."

Swiping at the tears, her face heated, embarrassed by her display of sentiment. She laughed a little, but her laugh held no mirth. "Sorry. I'm usually able to control my emotions better."

"I don't want you to control your emotions where I'm concerned," he said quickly. "For what it's worth, you won't scare me away with emotional displays. But perhaps you care enough for me to be worried that you might."

When she looked up at him again, the tears were gone. "You're right. I do care for you, Bran. I just don't want to regret it."

The raw honesty in her voice was unmistakable, her vulnerability on full display. _Don't be afraid of what's happening between us._ He didn't say it. He wanted to kiss some sense into her first, to make her see him, feel him. _Maker, this woman is undoing me_.

He moved his lips to hers and dove in. It was no token kiss either, but a persistent and bruising kiss, full of heat and affection and the promise of more. When he finally broke away, he did so grudgingly, and his eyes held a clear message. "You tell me if that was that the kiss of a man who is afraid of intimacy and commitment."

She opened her mouth to respond, and then slowly closed it again. As the fog gradually left her mind, her thoughts cleared, and she considered the question. She sat up a little straighter, ignoring her inner scream of panic. "No, it was not. My insecurities are very real and very frightening at times, Bran, but the last thing I want to do is push you away."

His arms encircled her, and he pulled her close in a hard, possessive embrace as he kissed her again, tasting the addicting sweetness that was only Marian. He kissed her tenderly at first. When his passion grew, he began to kiss her deeply, with hand moved to her breast, his thumb lightly brushing her nipple through her thin pajamas. Tilting her head back, she moaned and let out a long, slow breath. Her palm pressed to his chest and she felt his heart beat faster. Then she reached lower, cupping him through his pants.

When she pulled the zipper down and slid her hand under the waistband of his underwear, he was already past the ability to stop – not that he wanted to. Her bold move shouldn't have surprised him—but then, why not? Almost everything about her did.

Bran shimmied as she tugged his pants over his hips, her eyes never leaving his. "I want to do this," she whispered. "Just relax."

She giggled at his expression, he assumed, and started tightening her fingers around him. Maker, the lightest of touches and he was ready to fall at her feet and beg for more. She went to her knees, the warmth of her mouth covering him as he groaned his approval. She took him in deeper before she tightened her lips and sucked.

 _Perfect…_.

Lost to the sensations of the wet heat surrounding him, he concentrated on not taking his hands off the edge of the couch, but it just didn't work. His hands fisted in her hair, stroked her face, touched her lips where they touched him, and his whole body trembled. Her tongue teased and tormented him as it flicked back and forth, her breathing muffled with gasps, the sounds she was making almost throaty growls.

When she glanced up and saw him watching her, her cheeks grew rosy and her lips parted. _Embarrassed, no doubt,_ he thought. Bran expected her expression to change, for her to withdraw behind the mask of shy caution she sometimes wore. But she didn't. Instead, Marian did something that equally surprised him. She stopped and smiled a bright, genuine smile that reached her eyes and lit up her whole face. He almost lost control right then. He wanted her so desperately, wanted to touch her, to feel her, to satisfy her beyond reason, beyond control, but he held back. _Maker, her tongue is so soft and sweet_.

His whole consciousness was centered on the tip of her tongue as it swirled and dipped, as she varied the pressure and the speed so he could never quite hold onto a rhythm that would bring him release. He thought he'd go mad with desire, clenching his fists and shutting his eyes, suspended between anticipation and pleasure.

The climax hit him like a tidal wave, and at the same instant, Marian lunged forward, taking every inch of him into her mouth as she swallowed. In the muted lighting of the room, she moaned softly and seemed remarkably comfortable for someone who claimed to be inhibited.

As his senses calmed, he hoisted her up his body until she straddled him. Her lips were cherry red, her cheeks glowing, and her eyes dark and wild. She tilted his head back and claimed his mouth, her fingers raking through his hair, pulling his face close and hard against hers. _Savage_ was all he could think after she swooped in like a bird of prey and took his mouth in a kiss that stunned him with its intensity. The need in her was raging, burning stronger than anything he'd ever felt with her. It seemed he brought out the animal in her. He made her feral, a dark and exhilarating sensation that seemed to fill and consume her. He thought control had always been her focus, a way to keep herself in check. He made her lose that control. He made her _want_ to lose it, to be wicked, and he realized that now, she knew it too.

Her body never felt so vibrantly alive, and the unfamiliar sensation was as thrilling as it was shocking. She breathed him in, the clean scent with a hint of evergreen. She sucked his tongue into her mouth, taking him in just as he was ensnaring her. If he thought he was the only one with wanton fantasies, he was in for a surprise. She was scared of the emotions pulsing through her but in an exhilarating I-can't-wait-for-more sort of way. She kissed him feverishly, her tongue battling for dominance and he didn't pull away until she was gasping for air.

"Was that good?" she asked, panting softly.

 _What a silly question,_ he thought. It set him off and instead of answering, he started to laugh. She rolled into him and laughed too. "It was the best, Marian." He kissed a line along her jaw to her mouth, his lips teasing hers as they held on to each other. "I'd love to spend all night doing this, to sleep with you in my arms and wake to you in the morning, but I can't tonight. Luke is leaving tomorrow."

"I understand. But are you leaving already?"

"No, no. I just wanted to make sure you were aware I can't the stay the night."

"And that's a tremendous bummer, but I know being a parent is… complicated at times. You have to be selfless when it comes to your children."

"Not as complicated now as it was when he was a boy. I still wait up for him as I did when he was younger. The worry never goes away, but he's a smart kid, he's stayed out of trouble. Unlike his father at the same age."

"Ooh, you were a trouble maker, were you? Somehow that doesn't surprise me."

"You have no idea the trouble I can cause." He claimed her mouth in a searing kiss, his hands roving and caressing her body until he pulled away. "I have something I want you to ponder. I was going to wait, but after today... well, it's just a simple gift for First Day." Pulled from a back pocket, an envelope appeared in his hand, her name the only writing on it.

"Another gift? You really shouldn't have, Bran. Although I do like getting presents." She beamed at him, teasing him in a playful sort of demeanor he found enrapturing. "If you keep spoiling me like this, I may become insufferable."

Bran's answer was to reach for her and pull her close, an oddly contrite look twisting his smile. "This is really meant for both of us in a way. Read it and tell me what you think."

Tearing into it, she opened the note under his watchful eye, her lips moving ever so slightly as she read.

_This gift voucher entitles you to an entire day's pleasure at the hands of_ _Bran Winthrop_ _. To pamper you, cook for you, give you a massage. Anything you ask of me will be done._

"Oh Bran, I… I don't know." She stood up and began pacing the room. "A gift like this from you is… is-"

"Is what? I want to do this for you." He shifted in his seat.

"And I appreciate the thought, but it's the kind of gift I take very seriously." An uncertain look crossed her face. "It's not like buying me dinner or taking me to a movie. It's more evocative."

"It's simply another way to get to know each other. I'm not asking you to make any promises." The smoothness that hid his displeasure at her halfhearted reaction began to strain. He leapt from the couch and walked toward her. "We're not a couple of naive teenagers, Marian. Why does everything we do or don't do have to be dissected and analyzed?"

 _Guilty as charged_. She looked into his eyes and saw the rejection she was causing. "I'm just trying to protect myself from getting hurt, Bran. Some things are more meaningful than others. Fooling around with you is one thing. When you start giving me gifts like this, it brings it to a new level."

Her words stung more than they should have. How much of it was fear speaking though? Or was it his experiences with other women causing her to be wary? More than a hint of bitterness edged into his voice. "You obviously think my offer is ridiculous, so just forget it."

"No, I didn't say that!" She didn't want to tell him the idea of him pampering her all day made her giddy and outrageously happy, but even more than that, she didn't want him to think she was ungrateful. She sighed and touched his cheek. "I'm touched that you would think to do this for me, but… but it's too soon, I think."

"What is too soon? Spending a day together?"

"Spending an entire day with you… _doing_ that stuff for me would be great and romantic, but it implies that you are more than -" She stopped, trying to figure a way out of the argument. "Maybe you're not as detached as you seem."

"Detached?" His face didn't betray him, but she heard the distress and confusion in his voice. "Is that what you see in me? Detachment?"

"In some ways, yes, because you seem to only want sex." That had his cheeks and ears turning red. _Not a good sign._

" _You_ are throwing a double standard in my face? You were willing enough on the couch, or have you forgotten who seduced her way down my pants scant minutes ago? Oral sex is just fine by you, but Maker forbid we actually get down to the real thing!"

"See?" Her eyes blazed with a passion as intense as the fire in his eyes. "That really _is_ what this is about. The fact that I won't sleep with you!"

"I want you to give me a straight answer, and don't spare my feelings. What is the real reason you won't sleep with me, Marian?"

Although his jaw was set, the quiver in his voice didn't match his schooled features, and the ragged tenderness in his tone almost drew a sob from her. She remained silent for only a moment.

"Because I like you. I like you a lot, and you'll leave me if we have sex. I'm not ready for that." Though it cost her some embarrassment points to admit the truth, she gave it to him.

Taking a step back, he stared at her, stupefied. "Are you serious?" he demanded, his voice full of offense. "Do you think I'm so deceitful? Do you think everything I've told you is just a lie to get you into bed?"

She frowned, immediately flushing with embarrassment. "You've had so many women in your life I'm sure there was little chance of falling for any of them, right? So why wouldn't it be the same with me? There's nothing special about me." Unable to stave off the emotion sweeping through her, her lips quivered as the tears in her eyes began trickling down her cheeks. But the stinging tears were brushed away by a gentle finger, as only a lover would do. She hardly felt his hand, hardly knew he was holding her when he spoke.

"Then you do not see what I see. None of those women were like you." Easy words, designed to roll off the tongue as they had in similar situations. But never had he meant them more than he did at this moment. He held her tighter. "I never trusted any of them." He brushed an errant lock of hair from her face, but she tore away from his reach.

"But for some unknown reason, you trust me, right?" With her back to him, she didn't see the concern in his eyes, or the longing.

"Marian, look at me."

"What?" She spun around, her hands folded across her chest, eyes still glassy.

"I thought it was obvious that I trusted you, but let me give you my word right now. I trust you. Completely."

"You trusted Katriela once, too." The words were out before she could stop herself. "You will always have a bond with her, Bran. And she will exploit that bond to her benefit for the rest of your life."

"This is more about her than anything else, isn't it?" He rubbed his eyebrows, his fingers seeming to burn into his skull. "The only connection I have to her is my son. Nothing more. We're barely on speaking terms."

She turned and laughed in his face. "Oh really? I think you're ignoring some warning signs. Either that, or you know exactly what she's all about, but you just don't want to tell me!"

"I've told you why we split up. The fact that she had no faith in me, no respect for me ended whatever we may have had. She didn't really love me back then, and nothing has changed," he insisted with great conviction.

"You're wrong."

"She is obsessed with the fact that she can't have me. That is not love!"

 _And this conversation is going nowhere_ , Marian thought. "How was she at brunch this morning? Was she argumentative or agreeable? Did she mention me at all? Surely she must have."

"Your name did come up once, but it was Luke who mentioned you, not Kat. In fact, she had nothing to say about you. I was quite surprised by her restraint."

"Uh huh. And that's exactly the reaction she wanted from you."

"Where is this concern for my ex-wife and her motivations coming from, Marian? Just from seeing her yesterday?"

"Partly. I know how women are, Bran. And I _know_ she wants you back." Despite herself, she heard the bitterness in her voice. She saw he'd heard it too. "But I didn't want tonight to be ruined by crap like this. Shit!" The note in her hand, his present to her, hit the counter with a loud slap of her hand. "Why does everything have to be so complicated?"

"It doesn't have to be complicated. Believe me, Marian, what I feel for you is real. I'm not taking this lightly," he said, gesturing between them, "and I'm not taking it for granted. And if you think I am, I expect you to tell me and hit me over the head with your discontent."

Could she believe him? She wanted to, desperately. But did she dare?

"I don't blame you for doubting me," he said softly.

She didn't think her thoughts had shown on her face, but he had just read her like a book. Although her cheeks were bright red, she couldn't look away now. "I don't want to doubt you, Bran. I want to, and _need_ to believe everything you're telling me."

Bran lowered his eyes then. "I don't exactly come with excellent references. Not for relationships, anyway. All I can do is tell you how I feel." His eyes met hers again. "You are a remarkable woman, Marian. You've made me take a close look at myself. And why I was… the way I was." He took a deep breath and then let it out. "The truth is, I wasn't looking for a relationship when you helped me at the shop the other night. My work always came first, before everything except my son. But you made me see what I've been missing out on. You captivated me that night, and you have every day since."

"And you captivated me too." Smiling at him, she tried for a confident expression. "All right, I'm going to toughen up. How about we ignore my foolish insecurities then? Or better yet, just forget they exist." Her voice broke on the last word. Then her lips parted and her eyes danced as she began laughing and crying at the same time.

"And just what is so damn funny?"

Their eyes locked, and she smiled through the tears. "We've had our first fight. That's a positive sign, don't you think?"

"Maybe." _Maker's breath, she's nuttier than a squirrel. In a good way though_. "Because only people who care about each other fight, right?"

"Precisely."

"You know, I haven't had any kind of fight with a woman since my marriage."

"No?"

If anyone could tempt his emotions to venture outside his comfort zone, it was Marian. And he continued to lay his cards on the table, so there'd be no misunderstandings about his feelings for her.

"I didn't care enough to have one with anyone else." He put his arms around her waist, their foreheads touching together, and they were smiling at each other again. "I want you to trust me, Marian, the way I trust you. I am not saying to throw your instincts out the window or telling you to rush into something blindly. But just let me inside your thoughts every once in a while. Especially when you're feeling insecure about me, or us, or whatever this is happening between us."

"Whatever it is, I like it. And I don't want it ruined by all our baggage."

"We both have bad memories, but that doesn't make them useless. We've learned from them and we should take life as it comes now, and make decisions based on the moment."

He was right. But he was wrong, too. Sometimes people had to protect their hearts. "I told you I won't have a simple affair. I need more, a commitment at some point, even if it doesn't last. And I'm not making a judgment or forecast in that regard."

"I hear you. I'm inclined to agree with you also." He crushed her against his chest. "And since we've had our first fight, I think a make-up kiss in order." He covered her mouth with his in a sweet kiss filled with longing and restraint.

"There's a great deal we don't understand about each other," she murmured.

"Not yet, but we're trying. We'll figure it out."

"We will," she said decisively, then straightened in his arms with a confident shine in her eyes. "Okay, so your offer is beyond tempting. Let's do it. How about tomorrow? I'm off, you're off. After Luke leaves, why don't you come here and we'll take it from there?"

 _Wow_ , he thought, _wasn't expecting that_. "It's a date." Their lips met again until he began to find his way to the aching parts he knew she wanted him to touch. "Don't worry, Marian, I know what you want," he whispered seductively. "And I want to give it to you. The rest will come later." He trailed kisses along her jaw and down her throat, licking along her collarbone and just below. He slid his hands under her pajama top and allowed them to roam. "Let me take care of you, Marian." Bran took her hand and led her through the living room, toward the bedroom.

"Living dangerously, are we?" she asked with a raised brow.

"What fun is life without a little risk?"

"I couldn't tell you," she said as he gently pushed her onto the bed and lay next to her.

"You'll be able to after tonight."

Hunger flashed between them, and even as he stripped off her clothes, he kept kissing her with hot, wild kisses. She felt no discomfort, only a sense that this moment was predestined, in the same way Bran was fated not to be on the plane. The feeling that they were meant to be together was impossible to ignore or deny anymore.

As he wrapped his arms around her, she slid her hands up his back, pressing him closer. The kiss deepened, and she knew if she was standing, her knees would have given out. At that moment, she was quite sure she could stay in Bran's embrace for the rest of her life.


End file.
